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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24263644">A Quiver of Cobras</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/KoriMonster/pseuds/KoriMonster'>KoriMonster</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Borderlands (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(non racial slavery its domestic servitude via human trafficking), Cults, Extremely Dubious Consent, Gen, Human Trafficking, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Post-Canon, Slavery, Statutory Rape, Teen Pregnancy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 23:02:01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>60,468</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24263644</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/KoriMonster/pseuds/KoriMonster</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After the death of the Twin Gods, the Children of the Vault fall into chaos. The remaining war lords scramble for a new symbol to rally their followers behind. They find one in the form of 17 year old Millie Xanth, who is pregnant with Troy Calypso’s child. Additionally, Millie appears to the inheritor of Tyreen’s Siren powers. </p><p>Millie wants nothing to do with the COV, but neither she or the cult has much of a choice. Unable to escape, Millie tries to keep her head above water, gather allies, and maintain her new station. In between disasters, she wrestles with her complicated grief, her unpredictable powers, and the looming abyss that is her uncertain future.    </p><p>(Some chapters will include more specific warnings in the author's notes. This work does contain an abuse survivor having complicated feelings for the person who victimized them. Some chapters do take place as flashbacks.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>32</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. In The Land of Mags and Honey</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Hail Millicent,</em><br/>
<em>Full of power,</em><br/>
<em>The Firehawk is with thee.</em><br/>
<em>Blessed art thou amongst bandits,</em><br/>
<em>And blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Friday.</em><br/>
<em>Holy Millicent, Mother of Xanflora,</em><br/>
<em>Pray for us Vault Hunters,</em><br/>
<em>Now and at the hour of our death,</em><br/>
<em>Amen.</em><br/>
<em>-Hail Millie, daily prayer of the Xanthine.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Millie had had to stop working twice before lunch to vomit up her meager breakfast. The other girls in her corner had silently watched her bolt from the room to vomit onto the hard-baked dirt outside. After the second time, when Millie came staggering back in, wiping her mouth with a shaking hand, Tamara spoke up. “You’re sick.”</p><p>“Yeah, you think?” Millie asked tiredly. She bent back over her wash tub and resumed scrubbing sheets. The vomiting had worn her out even more. She’d overslept today and had narrowly avoided a beating from Bird-Legs. The adrenaline rush from being shrieked at by the masked overseer had only carried her so far. Now, the fatigue that had been dogging her for the past two weeks had returned.</p><p>“<em>She shouldn’t be working if she’s sick</em>,” Bianca said. The guttural sound of their native tongue had several other girls looking up from their stations. “<em>She’ll get it into the washing</em>.”</p><p>“Nonsense.” Claudia, grey-haired and narrow-eyed, leaned over and laid a pruny hand over Millie’s forehead. It smelled like dirt and sweat and weak soap, and Millie let her eyes slide shut for a moment. “No fever,” Claudia declared. “Bianca, get her some water.” Bianca stood up from her tub and walked to the exterior door. Millie heard it bang shut as she left. Claudia looked carefully at Millie’s face, her damp, soapy hand cupping her cheek. “Have you eaten anything strange?” She asked, thumb stroking Millie’s cheekbone. Claudia was older than the rest of them by at least 15 years, and had left a wife and four children back on Anholt. She was the only woman above 25 that the slave traders had let live.</p><p>“I eat the same as you,” Millie pointed out.</p><p>Claudia frowned at her. “<em>I know they give you food sometimes, when you go upstairs. What has he given you recently</em>?”</p><p>She heard the exterior door open and close again, and then Bianca was kneeling next to her, offering a cup. Millie took it and drank. The familiar, rusty taste of the outside water pump rolled over her tongue and down her throat. She grimaced and forced herself to drink the rest. They had to use the same ancient metal pump for laundry, bathing, and drinking. The actual members of the cult got filters for their water supply, and the twins got clean water from somewhere. When she finished the water, she set the cup down, thanked Bianca in Anholtan and resumed her washing. “I’m fine now,” she insisted, and slowly, the others returned to work.</p><p>Claudia continued frowning at her for another minute or so, but she sighed and returned to her own tub. As Millie plunged her hands in and out of the tepid, dingy water, she tried to remember what she ate the last time she saw Troy. <em>Grapes...fresh bread...was it the cheese? I did eat a lot of it...I had actual chicken for the first time in three years maybe it was that?</em></p><p>Regardless of what she’d eaten, the last time she’d spent the night in the God-King’s quarters had been three days ago. She highly doubted food poisoning ever took that long. It was probably just her period, wreaking havoc on her tired, heat-battered body. She’d been ticking off days on the bones leftover from dinner, just like the bandit women had taught her, and she was late.</p><p>Millie paused, hands squeezing a lump of sodden fabric. How late was she? Millie took her hands from the tub and gingerly patted her pockets until she felt this month’s bone. She pulled it out and ran the tip of her finger across the notches.</p><p>According to the bone, she was at least 8 days late.</p><p>“Claudia!” Millie called, her voice high and thin in her own ears.</p><p>Claudia was at her side seconds later, and her hands closed around the bone as well. “Millicent?” She asked.</p><p>“<em>I’m late</em>!”</p><p>Claudia’s eyes went wide, and then she started talking, in harsh, rapid-fire Anholtan. “<em>Do your breasts hurt? Have you been tired lately? Going to the bathroom more? Odd, intense cravings</em>?”</p><p>Yes. Yes. Yes. And yes. Millie’s stomach was twisting with a different sort of nausea, and she felt dizzy. The other girls were staring again, and the tension and anxiety in the room was palpable. Claudia looked as sick as Millie felt as she stared from the slashed bone to Millie’s wide, frightened eyes. Claudia grabbed her by the arm and stood, dragging Millie to her feet.</p><p>Whispers were flying as Claudia walked Millie to the interior door. She heard the Calypso’s names among those whispers.</p><p>She’d tried so hard to keep what was happening upstairs a secret. But everyone knew.</p><p>Claudia banged on the locked door until the slot near the top rattled open. Bust Up’s crazed eyes stared in at them, and her rasping voice came through the slot. “What do you want, insect? And don’t think I didn’t hear that heretic language!”</p><p>Claudia gestured angrily to Millie. “You know who she is?” Claudia asked. “She needs to see the God-Queen, now!”</p><p>“You don’t make demands, insect!” The slot slammed closed. Claudia yelled a string of curses and smacked the door.</p><p>“Claudia, stop!” Millie pleaded.</p><p>Claudia looked at her, eyes wild, and said, “<em>You need a pregnancy test</em>!”</p><p>Bust Up struck the door hard. Presumably with the butt of her rifle. “CAN IT WITH THAT HERETIC LANGUAGE!” She screamed, and Claudia’s face went white with rage.</p><p>Millie grabbed Claudia around the stomach and dragged her back. “Claudia!” She whined. “It’s fine!” When Claudia finally relaxed and turned back to her, Millie lowered her voice and kept talking. “I’m the only one allowed to bring clean laundry up the twins’ quarters.<em> When this load is dry, I’ll take it up to Tyreen’s and talk to her there, in private, okay</em>?”</p><p>Claudia sighed and cupped Millie’s face. “<em>I don’t want you talking to her alone</em>!” She whispered.</p><p>“I’ll be fine. Tyreen has never hurt me.” Millie assured her, forcing a weak smile. Claudia finally gave a stiff nod, and then looked around to all of the staring, frightened girls.</p><p>“Back to work!” She said, her voice just this side of shrill. “Or we’ll all be answering to Bust Up!” There was a flurry of skinny bodies scrambling back to their stations, and Millie joined them. She hadn’t lied to Claudia. Tyreen had never hurt her physically. Mentally and emotionally, certainly, but the God-Queen had never actually laid a hand on her.<br/>
<em>But there’s a first time for everything, right?</em><br/>
-<br/>
Millie took her time putting away the twins’ clothes and making their beds with fresh sheets. When she finally finished that, and Tyreen still wasn’t back, she started cleaning up other things in their quarters. Curtains, rugs, the random treasures lining the shelves. Finally, she heard the sound of Tyreen’s voice echoing down the hallway. It sounded like she was recording something for Troy. The footsteps stopped outside of the door, and Millie listened to her sign-off. She took a seat in a scarred chair at Twin’s dining table and folded her hands in her lap, eyes trained on the table. The door swung open, and Tyreen’s heavy footsteps came inside. They halted abruptly and Millie tried not to flinch.</p><p>“Uhhh. Hey, Mills, what are you doin’ in here?” The door lock thunked and Millie fought the urge to flinch. “You better have a damn good reason to be sitting in that chair without permission.”</p><p>Millie lifted her eyes to see Tyreen dragging her own high-backed chair away from the other side of the table and collapsing into it. Tyreen raked a hand through her hair and flung her legs onto the table. A flash of annoyance went through Millie; she’d just polished that. “I’m...I’m pregnant.” Millie said softly.</p><p>The smile on Tyreen’s face vanished, and her relaxed posture wasn’t far behind it. “You sure?” She asked.</p><p>“No...but I’m more than a week late and I’ve been throwing up.”</p><p>“Shiiiiit.” Tyreen groaned, and rolled to her feet. “Come on, I got a box of tests around here somewhere.”<br/>
-<br/>
“Here!” Tyreen shoved something into her hands. It looked like a small, round sucker, but clear instead of dyed with food coloring. “Just stick that in your mouth for a minute.”</p><p>“You sound like your brother,” Millie said softly.</p><p>“Haha, funny!” Tyreen sneered. “Take the fucking test Millie.”</p><p>The sucker had no real taste, and a strange texture that was closer to glass than candy. Millie held it between her lips and against her tongue while Tyreen impatiently stared at her watch. It was the longest period of time Millie had ever heard her refrain from speaking.</p><p>When one minute was up, Tyreen didn’t bother telling Millie. She just yanked the sucker test from Millie’s mouth and checked it herself. “Motherfucker!” Tyreen shrieked, and threw the test to the ground.</p><p>“Oh? How do you think I feel?” Millie asked.</p><p>“Now? Now of all fucking times?!” Tyreen shouted, and turned away from Millie, leaving her standing in Tyreen’s bathroom. Millie listened to her stomp around her quarters, ranting to no one. “I am so fucking close, and right before we cinch the deal, Troy has to go and shoot 10 ccs of Baby Batter into the goddamn help?!”<br/>
Millie sat on the edge of the stained bathtub and waited. For what, she wasn’t exactly sure. But she wasn’t going to go back downstairs until some sort of plan had been put forth. She put her hands over her belly and pressed lightly. Whatever was in there had to be very small right now. She couldn’t feel it at all.</p><p>Tyreen came back after roughly five minutes of angry, one-sided ranting. She stood in the doorway, nose pinched between her fingers. “Okay...Mills, here’s the deal. Tomorrow, Troy and I are opening the Great Vault. We will be Gods, Millie, and we will deal with THIS--” She gestured to Millie. “--AFTER that, okay? Can you just...not tell anyone, for like 2 days?”</p><p>“...I can refrain from telling anyone else for 2 days.”</p><p>“Oh for the love of, who already knows?!” Tyreen demanded.</p><p>“The entire laundry room.”</p><p>“OH SO FUCKING EVERYBODY WHO WORKS FOR ME IS GONNA KNOW IN 2 DAYS ANYWAY.” Millie cringed and Tyreen made a visible effort to lower her voice. “Millie. This is important. Do not. Tell. Troy. Can you do that?” Millie nodded, and Tyreen seemed to relax slightly.“Okay. Good.”</p><p>She and Tyreen continued to stare at each other for a few seconds. Millie looked away first. "Can I go back to my quarters?" Millie asked.</p><p>"Yeah, you can go." Tyreen looked down at the test sitting on the floor and crushed it with her shoe. Millie stood and left, trying to ignore Tyreen's dark muttering.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Want to support me in other ways? Here's my tumblr! https://jaymonsterthecanaryprince.tumblr.com/Links</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. God Is Dead (so's her brother)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>
    <em>Millie! Millie are you fucking listening to me?! </em>
  </b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Millie couldn’t move. She was on her back in the slave quarters, jaw slack, limbs sprawled. Her ears were ringing and every half second or so she twitched violently. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>MILLIE!</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tyreen’s voice was in her head. And it had brought something with it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I can hear you…</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>Millie I have like 3 seconds...don’t fuck this up! </em>
  </b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t fuck what up? </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Silence. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tyreen was gone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Millie woke, she was no longer on the floor. She’d been put into a bed, a proper bed, not a thin and creaking cot. Millie sat up, looking blearily around the dark room she was in. She was in one of the main buildings of the compound, she could see that much. “Hello?” Millie called hoarsely. She pushed off the thin blanket she was under and tried to swing her legs off the bed. Her body felt...not leaden. It felt sensitive. Buzzing and alive. Her feet hit the floor, and when she tried to stand, she brought up her left arm to steady herself--</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Vaguely iridescent blue tattoos curved lazily across her skin, shining dully in the semi-dark. Millie twisted her head and stretched her arm out, trying to find their end. She grabbed the hem of her shirt and lifted it. Those same blue marks swirled down her side, disappearing into the waist of her shorts. Millie swallowed hard, and got to her feet. “Hello?” She called, walking towards the shadow of the doorway. She could see a strip of light at the bottom of the door. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Before she could reach it, the door was yanked open, and the light was snapped on. Two cultists she didn’t know filled the doorframe. Both of them were female, and they were staring at the floor, not meeting her gaze. “Um. Hi.” Millie said. She opened her mouth, and realized she had no idea which question to ask first. The most pressing one was ‘Why are Tyreen Calypso’s Siren tattoos on me?’ </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>‘Where are the twins?’ was another one she was curious about. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And another popped into her head and she went rigid with the thought. ‘Is my baby okay?’ seemed pretty damn important but random cultists were not the people to ask. “Why are you outside my door?” She asked finally, keeping her voice soft. The first beating she ever got here was for talking out of turn. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“The Council of Chiefs asked for us to wait until you woke up, and then bring you to them,” said the bandit on the left. Her head was shaved, and the lower half of her face was covered by a cracked and studded leather mask.  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Queen-Mother!” Added the one on the right. Her ragged clothes all in bright oranges and yellows, and they were adorned in bottle caps and safety pins. A look favored by the BulletTooth clan.   </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“...I’m sorry, what did you call me?” Millie asked. “Um, look, I do not know who the council of chiefs are, but, I would really like to see Claudia before I do anything else, so--” Millie began. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Queen-Mother, we are very, very sorry, but the Council of Chiefs was very clear that we need to bring you to them the second you woke up.” The bandit in the mask said, and reached for her. Millie automatically stepped back just as the BulletTooth yelped in fear. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t touch her, you idiot!” The bandit reared back, apologizing profusely. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Millie was not an angry person. She never had been. And you didn’t survive being domestically enslaved on a desert hell planet by losing your temper. But given present circumstances, she made an exception. “I was talking!” Millie snapped and both of the bandits shrank back. “Who the hell is the Council of Chiefs and why do you keep calling me Queen-Mother?” Neither of them spoke, and just stared at her like frightened rabbits. “Answer me!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They both flinched and Millie gave up. “Alright, move, both of you.” Millie squeezed past them and started down the hallway. She stopped. And turned back to them. “Where am I?” She asked. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“The Death Screamers house.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh. Okay.” Millie started walking again, and froze when she reached a fork in the hallway. The left was a staircase, narrow and dark, leading down. The other was an empty looking hallway with another corner at the end. She’d never been in this building before. All of the war chiefs and their closest followers had been given housing in the compound, but she worked inside the Twins’ house, with their direct, original followers. She tried to picture the way back to her quarters from here and found she couldn’t. She was starting to realize exactly how much of the last three years she’d spent going from her quarters, to the Twins’ house, and back again. She’d been in other buildings maybe four times total since being brought here. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Millie closed her eyes and tried to breathe. She wanted Claudia, and had no idea how to get out of here to find her. “Queen-Mother?” One of them asked, and then something dragged itself out of the dark, distant part of her mind. A vague memory of her childhood on Anholt and the ancient TV show her mother had watched. ‘Queen-Mother’ meant the mother of the king. “Queen-Mother?” A bandit repeated, sounding frightened.  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Millie turned around and looked at them both. Mother of the king. They knew she was pregnant. And they obviously saw the tattoos. The anger-induced confidence that had gotten her out of the room was threatening to abandon her, and her instincts told her to retreat. The tattoos on her arm tingled and her mind supplied another memory, this one more recent. </span>
  <b>
    <em>Don’t fuck this up!</em>
  </b>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Actually,” she said, and both bandits snapped to attention. “I changed my mind.” She walked back to the room she’d been in and stepped back inside. The bandits followed her as she walked purposefully to the bed. “I need one of you to go to the Calypso slave quarters and get a woman named Claudia Heldt and bring her here, right now.” Millie sat on the bed and the bandits watched her with rapt attention. “And the other one can tell the Council, or whoever, that if they want to see me, they can come see me, okay?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The bandits looked at each other. “Okay, Queen-Mother.” Said the BulletTooth, slowly, sounding uncertain. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you hungry?” Asked the other. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What, excuse me?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You, you were knocked out for a really long time, Queen-Mother, and you should eat.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Um. Yes. Bring me something to eat, too.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course, Queen-Mother!” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They left. But she heard them lock the door from the outside. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Millie sat on the bed, and clasped her hands until they stopped trembling. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was halfway through her third sandwich when Claudia came running into the room. She threw her arms around Millie and Millie squeezed her back. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh my poor baby,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Claudia said, rocking her back and forth. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>My tiny sweet, did they hurt you</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, Claudia, I’m okay.” Millie buried her face in Claudia’s threadbare sweater. It smelled like smoke and ash. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Claudia sat back and looked her over. “You collapsed in our quarters,” She said, grasping Millie’s shoulders. There was a large bruise on Claudia’s jaw that hadn’t been there when Millie saw her last, and her hands were bandaged lightly. “Gertrude found you...like that.” Her eyes darted to Millie’s left arm. “It’s true, your arm--” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Claudia, the baby--” Millie started, and Claudia gasped. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh! The baby!” She sat beside Millie on the bed and began asking her questions. “Do you feel sick?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, always right now.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Your chest?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hurts. Still.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Any bleeding?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No, none.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>After a few more questions, Claudia seemed satisfied. “You should take another pregnancy test, but I doubt you had a miscarriage,” She said, rubbing Millie’s back. “And thank God for that,” she added in a mutter. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Claudia, what the hell is going on?” Millie asked. “Nobody will tell me!” The bandit that had dropped off her food had been respectful, mostly, and had told her that the Council of Chiefs would see her shortly. Like the first two, he had failed to answer her questions. Even when she briefly took to shouting them through the door. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Claudia looked pained. “Millie...the Calypsos…” She stopped. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>The Twins are dead,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” she whispered. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>The Vault Hunters killed them</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Millie stared at her. “Dead? As in, they died? They are not coming back, they’re GONE?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Millie would have liked to feel elation. She’d have given a lot to have a few, brief seconds of hope and joy, no matter how false or foolish it was. “But we aren’t going free,” she said softly. Claudia’s face was not that of a liberated woman. Millie’s fingers tightened on the blanket under her. She was starting to piece it together on her own.  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No, liebling, we are not,” Claudia said. She ran a hand through Millie’s curly brown hair “The Cult is trying to survive. The chiefs of the bandits clans have seized control. They are keeping the Cultists faithful by telling everyone that you are carrying the God-King’s heir, and that you have Tyreen’s mark upon you.”  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Because I am and I do!” Millie got to her feet and then realized she had nowhere to go. “They’re never going to let me leave her alive, Claudia, I’m going to die in this awful desert and those subhuman lunatics are going to take my baby!” She went to the window, for lack of a better destination, and stared out of the dirty glass. She could see the Calypso house from here. If she squinted, she could see Troy’s window. Millie turned away and put her face in her hands, tears welling in her eyes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Millie…” The floor creaked as Claudia came to stand beside her again. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m going to die here!” Millie wailed. “I don’t even know if I want this baby, but I don’t want them to TAKE IT from me and decide what happens to it!” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Claudia embraced her and let her sob, stroking her hair and shushing her intermittently. “Millie,” Claudia began gently. “It does not have to be the end of all creation. You can--” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A heavy banging shook the door, and both women jumped. Claudia held Millie tighter as the door opened. A bandit, seven feet tall, with massive shoulders and reddish-purple bands of scar tissue criss-crossing his skin, slouched inside. One eye was gone, covered by a rough-cut square of metal. The other stared down at Millie like she was a half-crushed spider refusing to die. “Millicent Xanth,” he rumbled. “I am Bone Carver, warchief of the Death Screamers.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Millie pressed herself back against the wall and clutched Claudia’s arm. She was trembling when she spoke. “I, I told the Council of Chiefs that--” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We know what you told us, Queen-Mother,” Carver sneered. “But there isn’t any room here.” He gestured around the room. “So, come with me, NOW, or I’ll drag you there.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Millie slowly began to extract herself from Claudia’s arms. Claudia tried to stop her. “Millie, no, you can’t--” She said in a strangled voice. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t have a choice</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” Millie hissed, and pulled free of Claudia. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I’ll be fine</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” she added. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Carver’s enormous hand landed on her back, almost staggering her forward, and he began half-guiding, half-pushing her out of the room and down the hall. “That stunt you pulled earlier? You’re going to pay for that, insect,” he whispered. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <span>Her arm tingled again, and Tyreen’s voice was back. A memory, brief but vivid, of Tyreen speaking to Troy through her ECHO. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t let this pack of nobodies push you around! </span>
  </em>
  <span>She could feel something in the air, something that seemed to emanate from Carver. Something alive and electric, and whatever Tyreen had put inside her was reaching for it eagerly. “Someone will pay for it, yes.” Millie agreed. “Are you sure it’s going to be me?” </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Before</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Years later, Millie would point to this as the moment where the Calypsos got careless. Before, only cult members were allowed in the Twins' quarters; slaves and other non-believers would be a security risk. But, the Calypsos were new to Pandora, and still having a rough time around bandits. They found some of their followers appalling, creepy,  or flat out disgusting. Eventually, the Twins broke down and demanded that their personal attendants be from "somewhere civilized". In typical Calypso fashion, they turned the whole thing into a competition. The follower or clan who brought back the best offering won some big prize. Millie never found out what.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   A bandit war chief looking to up his status contacted a slave dealer he knew, and snapped up a recent grab from a colony ship. 24 young girls, 13 to 18, and one 45 year old woman who had been their chaperone. They were from Anholt, a central planet with a high quality of life. The girls were educated, upper middle class, and cute. Troy and Tyreen </span>
  <em>
    <span>loved</span>
  </em>
  <span> them. Loved their accents, loved their clean hair and healthy glow, loved their meek voices and soft personalities. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> The slaver ring sent them over with a guarantee that they’d be quiet and obedient, and, after six months of hell in the slaver ‘stockyards’, they certainly were. The colony ship that Millie and the others had been taken from was small, and had mostly carried students. Most of the older chaperones had been killed off within a few days. Then, slowly, the slavers trimmed out anyone who thought they couldn’t sell. You can only watch your classmates and peers be incinerated for so long before you decide your life is more valuable than your pride.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When they were first placed into the Calypso house, Claudia used to take up the laundry herself. She’d insisted on it. Dug her heels in even after a slap to her face. So, for the first few months, she got to. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then Claudia slipped and broke her ankle. She couldn't climb the stairs and Bust Up had even less patience than usual. She grabbed Millie out of the line of girls and shoved the basket of dry linen into her hands. Claudia had whispered; "Be quick, they're off recording right now! Troy's on top, then Tyreen. Do not be alone with Tyreen, ever!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>  Funny how she thought Tyreen was the one the girls should avoid. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>   Millie would never forget what she was wearing the first time she walked into his bathroom. She'd been intending to hang up clean towels, and instead found herself staring into a floor length mirror, hanging beside the tub. She hadn’t seen her own reflection in almost a year. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Millie dropped the basket of laundry to the floor and ran for the mirror, hands reaching out as if to stop her reflection from fleeing. There was her fifteen year old face, her mother's cheekbones, her father’s nose, a mouth that smiled like her grandfather and frowned like her great-uncle, her dark brown curls that belonged only to her. Taking deep, steadying breaths, she ran her fingertips over the tiny, dark beauty mark that rested beneath the inner corner of her right eye. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She didn’t look like herself. Her skin had been much paler on Anholt. After three straight months of sunburns, the desert sun of Pandora had finally tanned it a few shades darker. Her thick curls had been yanked into a sloppy ponytail to keep them out of her eyes and away from the wash tubs. Her brown eyes looked tired and sad, and had lost much of their sparkle. Finally, her clothes. Gone were her Anholtan sweaters and skirts, her thick leggings and delicate shoes. She was now clothed in ratty canvas shoes, faded black jeans that had been cut off at the knee, and a shirt that was likely once red but was now a murky, dull pink. She’d known that, of course; but seeing it was something else entirely. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Until that moment, when she pictured herself in her head, she still saw her old self. Her wealthy, innocent, soft handed self. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Millie sat down on the edge of the tub and buried her face in her hands. She felt small and dirty and hopeless, and the idea of standing up and continuing to work felt impossible. She just wanted to stay here, and wallow in some well-deserved self-pity for a bit. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her stolen break was cut short by the distant sound of a door banging open, and raucous voices echoing towards the bathroom. Millie shot to her feet and began frantically putting the towels away, eyes averted from the mirror as she worked. Her anxiety increased as the voices grew closer and she recognized them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Come on, buck up, we had a good day!” Tyreen Calypso insisted. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“YOU had a good day. I got mauled by skags while YOU laughed about,” Troy snapped back. Millie bit her lip and shifted the laundry basket on her hip. There were still sheets and pillowcases to put away. Cautiously, she crept out of the bathroom and scampered towards the bed to begin making it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay, I’m sorry! You weren’t in any real danger, and if you had been, you know I’d’ve helped you out.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Whatever.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Troy. TROY! Come on, I’m SORRY!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Judging from the distance and clarity of their voices, they were in their common area. The Calypso quarters were in a U-Shape, with a bedroom, bathroom, and closet at each end. In the center curve was a dining area and a sitting room that they shared. She heard their footsteps going back and forth. If she was quick, she might be able to make Troy’s bed, bolt across the hall to Tyreen’s, put her things away, and then flee downstairs without ever seeing them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...Fine. Okay. I’m not mad.” Troy huffed, as Millie snapped the last corner of the sheet into place. She unfolded and smoothed down the top sheet as well, and then began pulling pillow cases onto the pillows. Her hands were shaking. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It was a little funny, right?” Tyreen said, on the other side of the door. There were two doors into this room; one from the common area and one from the hallway. “When those guys from the Star Biters came running in to help you and just--” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Got eviscerated? Yeah, yeah that was hilarious, I’m not mad about that.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, you hungry?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...What type of hungry do you mean?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Millie paused, hands hovering over the comforter. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Like, I can’t remember if I’ve juiced you recently or not.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh that? Yeah, no you hit me this morning, I feel great.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmm, you sure? I could top you off.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Heh. If you got some to spare, sis, yeah.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Millie gave up trying to guess what they were talking about and tucked the comforter in. There. Perfect. No one could say she hadn’t done her job. Millie grabbed her basket off the floor and started for the hallway door. The door into the living area swung open behind her and an icy dread shot from the top of her head to her feet. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Millie froze. Her legs just stopped moving. She felt eyes on her back, and she heard the door shut again. “Well, hi there,” Troy said cheerfully. “Who are you?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Millie slowly turned. She was white knuckling the basket against her hip, and remembered half a second too late to avert her eyes. He was taller than she’d expected. And his Siren marks were red. Most COV broadcasts lacked color, and she’d assumed they were blue. The grin was the same though. Too wide and too bright and somehow sharp. She swallowed the lump in her throat and said, “Millie, your majesty. I was--” She trailed off and gestured to the bed. She found stealing glances at his prosthetic and tried not to grimace. It was functional, but crude. If she had to hazard a guess, it was likely a Raxter. Oversized, clunky, and powerful, with zero finesse. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He didn’t look away from her, and stepped closer. “Oh, you’re from laundry.” He said. His voice sent another bolt of anxiety down her spine. She knew that tone. Everything in her told her to run from that tone. “Is that Tyreen’s stuff?” He asked, and relief flooded her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, your Majesty, I still haven’t put away the God-Queen’s sheets and towels. Could I be excused to do so?” She asked hopefully. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nah.” He closed the distance between them and his flesh hand neatly yanked the basket from her arms. “I need you for something else.” He stepped around her, leaving her rooted to the spot, and strode to the door that led to the hallway. Millie heard it open. “Hey, you!” Troy called. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, my king,” came a gravelly voice Millie couldn’t place. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Take this stuff, put it away in Tyreen’s room.” The door slammed and locked and Millie almost threw up. He walked back past her, and his hand touched her bare shoulder briefly. She jerked away like it burned and he chuckled. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not gonna bite, Millie,” he teased. “Just need you to do something for me.” He took a seat on the foot of his freshly made bed, and beckoned her closer. Millie approached him cautiously, anxiety gripping her body. “My arm’s acting up,” he said, easily. “Can’t get it to disconnect. Do me a favor, get it off manually.”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh!” Relief bubbled in her. “Okay, I can do that.” She stepped around to look at his back. She tugged the collar of his vest away from the back of his neck to peer at the spinal implants that connected his arm to his brain. The arm might have been Raxter, but the spinal rig was CyberLife. Not a bad choice for a desert War Lord; tough, easy to repair and replace, bare-bones but reliable. Normally, there was a switch, DNA coded to the user, that allowed for a quick and painless disconnection of the limb. The switch seemed visibly jammed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Been like that for days,” Troy complained, as Millie continued squinting at the switch. “So, open up the--” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Millie pressed the tip of her finger to the black planes of the rig and traced an ‘S’ over it. The panels neatly whirred away, exposing the inner, manual controls of the rig. Millie couldn’t see much from this angle, not with his vest in the way, but every prosthetic company had similar layouts for the panels. She only had to grope blindly for a few seconds before finding and depressing the correct switch. The arm’s hydraulics hummed briefly, and it uncoupled from his shoulder a second later. The arm landed, knuckles-down, with a dull thud. A quick tracing of an ‘A’ for ‘activate’ and the panels closed back up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Huh.” Troy rolled his shoulder experimentally. “Aw, yeah, that’s better. Thanks Millie.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Millie stepped back, trying hard not to be pleased with herself. “My father lost both of his legs in one of the corporate wars. I’ve been around those things my entire life.” She gave him a quick, shallow bow, and tried to walk away. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He caught her wrist, and pulled her back gently. “Hey, where are you goin’?” He asked, grinning up at her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I-I thought--” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re real cute, Millie,” he murmured, pulling closer. He stood up, and his hand ran up her arm, coming to rest against her cheek. “That was so sweet of you to help me. You mind if I say thanks?” He ducked his head, and his breath ghosted across her lips. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You said thanks,” she said weakly, and tried to pull away. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His fingers dug into her cheek, threatening to bruise. “You’re fucking adorable,” he purred. “Come on, what would you rather do? Go downstairs and work, or stay up here with me?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She shuddered. She wanted to pull away but was fearful of the consequences. “Please, please don’t hurt me,” she said. “Please, I need to go back down--” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not gonna hurt you, Millie,” he said. “I can make this very good for you, if you keep being sweet.” His eyes were gleaming, his gaze keeping her pinned. The tight grip on her face was growing painful. “Are you hungry, Millie?” He asked abruptly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Huh?” This close, she could see the Siren marks swirling up the side of his face, disappearing into his hair. She couldn’t tell if they were actually glowing, or if it was only a trick of the light. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you hungry?” He repeated, thumb caressing the corner of her mouth. “And the woman who normally comes up, here, she got hurt, right?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” she said cautiously, trying not to flinch away from his touch. “She broke her ankle.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He grinned wolfishly at her. “We could have a little trade,” he said. “You stay here, play with me, and your friend can recover in the infirmary, instead of the slave quarters.” He stepped backwards, and sat back down on the bed. He tugged her down, and she reluctantly let herself be pulled into his lap. He looked pleased. “And I’ll feed you too. Something nice. Something tasty.” He added. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Millie bit her lip. Part of her was still trying to figure out the joke. “I can’t,” she tried. “I just can’t, I--” The threat of rape had hung over her head since the slavers had dragged her screaming from her cabin on the May Queen. She didn’t know if violating the merchandise was against their practice or if she’s just been lucky, but she hadn’t been touched once during her internment there. She’d avoided it here as well, mostly by staying in the laundry as much as possible. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Millie,” he interrupted, sounding impatient. “I am getting what I want whether or not you bitch about it. But, if you don’t bitch about it, I can make sure you get something out of it.” Millie squirmed in his lap, and then froze. He was hard, she could feel it through his jeans, and he groaned in disappointment when she went still. “When was the last time you had chocolate?” He asked, and kissed her again. “Or pork? Fruit juice?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Millie’s stomach growled, and he grinned triumphantly. “...Claudia gets to stay in the infirmary?” She asked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can I bring food down for my friends?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Troy’s hand had found its way to her hair, and was lazily stroking her curls. Millie shuddered again. “I’ll let you fill that laundry basket with as much as you can lift,” he promised. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The hand in her hair felt kind of nice. And his bed was much cleaner and softer than her cot in the slave quarters. And it had been a lifetime since she’d had food other than water, old bread, and skag meat. She swallowed her bile and her pride, and said, “Okay.”  </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Grade-Grubber</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Troy Calypso kept his word. She returned downstairs with a basket of food. The other girls dug in, and despite the twisting in her guts, Millie ate too. Claudia spent about a week resting in the infirmary, and came back to the laundry room with a proper splint and a real cane. She still couldn’t climb the stairs, and Millie stayed in charge of her duties. But the next two times Millie hauled clean laundry to the Twins’ quarters, there was no one there. She started to relax a bit. She’d made it out alive and it was over now. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So Millie didn’t feel overly unsafe as she unpacked Tyreen’s washed and folded clothes into her dresser. The dresser’s dark wood was scratched and pock-marked, and none of the hinges matched. Millie was wondering where it had come from instead of listening for voices or footsteps. She jumped half a foot when the bedroom door swung open and then slammed shut again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Years later, when Millie thought about Tyreen, it would always strike her that she met the Twins independently, but in nearly identical scenarios. “Oh hey, that my stuff?” Tyreen asked airly. She strode past Millie to her bed, shedding clothing as she went. Her outfit was filthy; blood, dirt, and dust. Her shoes squished wetly before she kicked them off, and then tumbled gracelessly onto her mattress.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Millie flushed and looked at the ceiling. The fact that the Twins lived their lives sans bodyguards still confused her deeply. Her home city’s mayor had a full security detail with her all the time. “Yes, your majesty,” Millie said carefully. “Your clothes are--” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bring me some clean ones,” Tyreen interrupted. “I gotta be back in front of the camera in like...2 hours.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Millie nodded, and, still looking pointedly away from the mostly naked Tyreen, turned to the dresser. She also avoided looking too closely at the woman’s filthy clothes, just picked carefully through them to the bedside. Tyreen was on her back, an arm slung across her eyes. She’d stripped down to her underwear and Millie tore her eyes away. Flushing again, she turned to gather the outfit that Tyreen had discarded. She did so gingerly, doing her best to not think about what was caking them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Millie had had a bit of a nickname back on Anholt; ‘Grade-Grubber’. Her mother had put it more gently; “You’re an over-achiever.” Saturday had just called her a suck-up. Whatever it was, she didn’t think before saying, “I’ll wash these myself, and I’ll have them back tomorrow.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She was most of the way to the door when Tyreen said, “Daw, thanks Millie.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Millie paused. And tried to remember if she’d introduced herself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Troy’s soooooo happy with you,” Tyreen continued, and Millie’s knuckles went white on the basket’s handle. “I mean, I thought it was just cuz he’s got such a big crush on you. But damn, you really go the</span>
  <em>
    <span> extra</span>
  </em>
  <span> mile, don’t you?” Millie hadn’t noticed the mocking tone creeping into Tyreen’s voice before. It was hard to tell when she always sounded a little mocking. “In fact, we were just talking about this when we were walking back. Tell whoever’s in charge of you that they need to swap you and the old bitch permanently.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Millie turned slowly, trembling. Tyreen was lounging, chin propped by her hand, grinning. She looked a lot like her brother when she grinned like that. Millie met her eyes. “Pardon?” She avoided eye contact, because the slavers had taught her too. They’d struck her every time she did for weeks. Tyreen’s direct gaze almost physically hurt after avoiding it for so long. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, we realized we gotta tighten up security, put some actual restrictions on who we let in arms reach of us.” She rolled her eyes. “Like, not that we need protecting, OBVIOUSLY, but assassination attempts are a drag. And Vido’s not gonna shut up until we get all serious.” There were a lot of questions Millie wished she could ask the Calypsos. One of them was, ‘Why did you openly discuss the inner workings of your shadow government in front of me?’ </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Your majesty, I don’t understand--” Millie started. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Anyway, we decided you’re probably the safer choice. That old chick has crazy eyes and you’re...what’s the word? Cowardly? Nah. Meek? Yeah, you’re meek!” Tyreen’s grin widened. “Anyway, that’s all. Thanks for being such a peach.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Millie numbly scrubbed Tyreen’s clothes. Claudia had long since stopped asking her what had happened, why the change, the other girls said you had food where did it come from, and instead worked beside her silently. She left the clothes to dry on the line overnight, and spent the next morning trying to get a stain out of a sheet. She was procrastinating; Tyreen’s clothes were dry. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There were actual guards on the staircase now, she noted. At the base, middle landing, and the hallway to their room. No one at their door though. Millie slipped into Tyreen’s room. She could hear them in their common area as she hastily ditched Tyreen’s clothes on the bed. “Millie!” She couldn’t remember which one called her. She did remember thinking, “What, did I think I could avoid them forever?” She dropped the basket to the floor and walked out into the living room. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was just once a week for a while. The Twins were insanely rigid about their schedules, and Millie came on the same day every week, at the same time with their clean stuff. No one else at the compound had their things washed that often. But the twins couldn’t tolerate being dirty. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t the worst thing in the world. Not all the time. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but he never strangled her or cut her or threatened to feed her to skags. There were upsides, sort of. The Twins had an actual working fridge in their quarters. If she’d made him happy, she was told to help herself. Baths were another thing he began to bribe her with. She hated being dirty as much as he did, and he exploited it.  “Come on, I need one anyway, and I’m not done with you,” he murmured, lips against her neck.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Millie shuddered as his breath tickled her skin. She was practically in his lap, sitting in between his splayed legs as he sat up against his pillows. Troy wasn’t as tricky to read as Tyreen, and Millie was figuring him out. He was in a good mood; that meant he was going to want to kiss, cuddle, draw it out. Girlfriend experience. She had thought for a while that he did that to torture her more, watch her squirm. Now she wasn’t so sure. He seemed happy when she played along. “A bath sounds...nice,” she said softly, and felt him smile against her neck. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>    Once a week turned into three times a week. He wasn’t always in a good mood. When he was in a bad mood, he was rough. Hair-pulling, biting until he left bruises, slamming her roughly into whatever surface was convenient. She was allowed to cry, allowed to say it hurt, she just wasn’t allowed to fight. He claimed it killed the mood. A few times she returned to the laundry room sore and bruised. But her laundry basket had food in it no matter what, so she cooperated. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>‘Not as tricky’ didn’t mean he was easy to read. So Millie practiced. If he was in a bad mood--or a truly scary one, the kind where he’d cover her mouth and tell her to hold still or he’d ‘give her something to cry about’--she just focused on getting through it. During his good moods, however... </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’d touch him. Talk to him. Tell him if something felt good. There was value in combing her fingers through his hair, or a well timed kiss, and neither cost her anything. Maybe it was the grade-grubber in her. But she started to like making him smile. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Around the time once a week became three times a week, and really, she didn’t know why she was still lying to Claudia at this point, everyone knew what was happening, Millie started seeing Tyreen. She had to pass through the common area to collect her earnings, and sometimes Tyreen was there. “Why do you always look at me like I’m going to eat you?” Tyreen demanded once and then let Millie stammer for roughly 30 seconds before she cut Millie off with a laugh. “Oh my god, I am fucking with you! I KNOW why you look at me like I’m going to eat you! Don’t stress, kiddo; Troy would throw such a fit if I leeched you without his okay. You’re like his, I don’t know, third favorite hobby.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tyreen was very hard to read. But Millie practiced that too. Tyreen liked feeling powerful; Millie was reminded of her sister’s cat, and how it liked to bat around captured insects for hours before finally eating them. Millie didn’t gamble with Tyreen like she did with Troy, and instead felt her way out slowly. Tyreen, it turns out, wanted a sounding board, but one that agreed with her. Not too often, not too loudly. Millie learned to listen for certain pauses, certain phrases that invited response. She’d give one that aligned with whatever Tyreen had been saying, and yahtzee, grade-grubber went home with another A. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There were worse lives on Pandora, Millie told herself.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Aftershocks</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Bone Carver’s massive hand stayed on her back as he brought her downstairs, out of his clan’s hall, and across the compound. They’d been actively under assault when Millie had lost consciousness, Vault Thieves and Crimson Raiders clashing with bandits. The after effects of the conflict were everywhere; buildings half burnt and some still smoking, every window blown out, and bodies. Piles and piles of bodies. Millie tried to look away, but anywhere she turned, there were more corpses. Many were burnt and blackened, or had missing limbs. Almost all had gaping bullet holes blown through them. In front of a house that Millie was fairly certain belonged to the Poison Maw clan, there was a three foot pile of what she abruptly realized were human heads. Eventually she looked at her feet and picked up her pace, trying to block out the horror around her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There were cultists out, despite the fact that it was long past dark. They were trying to clean up the wreckage, but they froze as Millie walked past. They stared and whispered. Those whose eyes she could make out were alight with something she didn’t recognize. A few of them clumsily dropped to their knees. A few tried to approach her, reach for her. Most of the ones who did were injured, and visibly frightened. Dislocated limbs, gouges of flesh and muscle torn away, bloody eye sockets oozing gore. Some were actually crawling towards her, legs dragging uselessly behind them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They brought their humming energy with them, but much of it felt wrong. Like she could taste the pain ravaging their bodies and the trauma stewing their minds. Part of Millie wanted to reach back, try to ease their misery. But a larger part of her just couldn’t bring herself to. She kept her hands clasped to her chest. It didn’t matter anyhow; a hard look and a snarl from Bone Carver had them shrinking back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carver said nothing as he marched her through the compound, and Millie didn’t bother asking him anything. The Cathedral still loomed large overhead, looking mostly untouched. The Calypso house didn’t seem to have been touched either. Millie felt something like relief at that. Overhead, beyond it, the moon hung silently in the sky. Something was wrong with it...Millie blinked a few times, and then failed to swallow her gasp. The Firehawk’s symbol glared down at her, marring the moon’s white surface. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What--” Millie started to ask, looking frantically back at Carver. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not out here,” Carver hissed, shaking his head. He looked almost pained.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Cathedral doors were hauled open for them. The Throne Room doors were still sealed shut, and Carver pulled her right past them. Down a side hallway, to a room Millie had only been to once or twice before. Carver stopped at the metal door, and banged on it three times with a meaty fist. The door was jerked open and someone waved them inside impatiently. The amount of raw life in the small room hit Millie hard, unexpected shove and something in her ached for it. She tried to stop, shaking her head to clear it, but Bone Carver pushed her over the threshold.   </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The room was packed. 15 warlords were crammed together around a table built for 8 seats. Many were on their feet, trying to stand between occupied chairs. They’d been talking when Carver opened the door; now they fell silent. Their faces were grim and dirty, and they smelled of blood and gunpowder. Most of them were injured as well, though less badly. One seemed to be actively stitching a shoulder wound closed on his neighbor. Among them, Millie saw a flash of white hair and the bands of anxiety around her chest loosened slightly. Vido wasn’t exactly a friendly face, but he was at least a familiar one. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carver shoved Millie towards the only open seat at the table, and she went stumbling to it. Dwarfed by the rough hewn chair that was much too large for her, she felt distinctly like a mouse cornered by hungry snakes. No one said anything as Carver leaned against the closed door, and Millie looked to Vido. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He looked back at her with something that might have been pity. “Hello, Millicent,” he said. He looked completely unharmed, somehow. Vido had taken off his head scarves, revealing ghost-white hair and pale pink-violet eyes. The Cave Spiders had lived below ground for generations, and over 90% of them were born albino. When they ventured above ground during the day, they covered themselves head to toe to avoid Pandora’s intense sun.  Like over half of his clansmen, Vido suffered some degree of cave blindness, further diluting his eye color. At this distance, if she hadn’t seen him up close before, she’d assume his eyes were completely white. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is it true?” She asked him. “They’re dead?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Millicent. I’m...I’m sorry.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Millie slumped in her chair. When Claudia had told her, she’d felt too many emotions at once to really put names to them. She’d gone numb instead. Now, the reality that the Twins weren’t coming back, that </span>
  <em>
    <span>Troy</span>
  </em>
  <span> wasn’t coming back, was setting in. Her lip trembled and her throat felt tight. “The Vault Thieves?” She asked, still talking to Vido. Her voice was threatening to crack.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” he confirmed. “The God-King died on Elpis, and Tyreen on Nekrotafeyo.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Millie let out a ragged, hitching breath, and her eyes threatened to spill over. “The moon, he died on the moon?” She said helplessly. “I thought the Firehawk--” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The room erupted in angry muttering and Millie fell silent, startled. “Can it!” Carver barked from the door. Instead of listening, the angry voices shifted their focus to him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No one put you in charge, asshole!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Because NO ONE’S in charge!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Somebody has to be!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Somebody is, its us, all of us!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“WHY AM I HERE?!” Millie shouted. Every head snapped back to her and she got the distinct impression several of them had forgotten she was here. “Why am I here?” She repeated. “Why did you bring me out here?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vido sighed, and leaned forward. “Millicent,” he said. “The Cult is collapsing. Over half the clans have abandoned ship, and the only thing keeping the others here, is you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Somebody to his left snorted. A warlord Millie recognized but couldn’t name leaned forward in her seat. Her hair was a violent shade of orange, and, judging by her clothing, this was the BulletTooth chief. “Not her,” she said, sneering. “Tyreen’s mark and the God-King’s baby, that is what’s keeping them here.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How the fuck did she even get Tyreen’s powers?” Someone else muttered, and with a jolt, Millie realized that she knew something they didn’t. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The point is,” the BulletTooth chief continued, a warning note in her scratchy voice. She was now speaking to Millie, her muddy green eyes shining. “We need that brat, and you need off this planet.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...Excuse me?” Millie asked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bone Carver spoke up again, and Millie turned to look at him. “This is how it's going to work,” he said. “You will be presented to the masses as the Queen Mother and as,” he sneered, “Tyreen’s heir.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I am Tyreen’s heir. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Millie thought distractedly, as another warlord cut in. This one she didn’t even know by sight. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>We</span>
  </em>
  <span> will be running the Cult. For the duration of your pregnancy, you will remain in the Calypso quarters unless you need to be presented to the cultists. When you give birth, we will take the child--” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re going to what?!” Millie demanded, convinced she’d heard that wrong. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Everyone ignored her and the man kept talking, the safety pin in his lower lip flashing. “You will return to Anholt, unharmed, and our people will be told you have died.” He finished. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Millie looked from face to face, trying to think, trying to speak, and finally managed, “No!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No?” Carver repeated, voice low and dangerous, and Vido looked deeply aggravated. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, you’re not taking my baby!” Millie shouted. Panic was clawing at her throat, drowning out the grief that had tried to overwhelm her earlier. She gripped the arms of her chair. “I’m not just giving you my child!” She said shrilly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The warlord with the safety pin snorted. “Do you think we’re giving you a choice?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Millicent,” Vido said. “You have an opportunity to get out of here, forget all of this, and I suggest--” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The BulletTooth chief slammed her palm against the tabletop. “We are not ‘suggesting’ shit!” She shouted and pointed at Millie. “I don’t care that she somehow stole the God-Queen’s powers, or has the King’s bastard in her belly! No Anholtan insect is going to ruin everything we’ve built!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Stole?” Millie repeated, outraged. “I didn’t steal shit!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Safety Pin gave her a look of disgust and Carver groaned, “Shut up, Millie,” from behind her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, stop, why are we talking about this now? No one has even told me what actually happened out there,” Millie said. “The Twins--” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s not your concern,” Carver cut her off and Vido gave a long suffering sigh. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not my concern?” Millie repeated slowly, turning more fully around to look at him. He glared back at her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The BulletTooth chief, whose face had twisted at mention of the Twins, looked at Safety Pin and said, “Clash, get her out of here, we need to get to the important shit and I’m tired of looking at her.” Safety Pin--Clash--rolled to his feet and stalked towards her. Carver moved out of the way of the door, and Clash grabbed her by her right arm, hauling her to her feet. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Millie twisted in his grasp. “Let go!” She shouted, as he tried to drag her towards the door. Everything she’d felt for the last few hours was coming back to the surface, the numbness brought on by terror no longer keeping it at bay. She was exhausted and confused and furious and hungrier than she’d ever been in her life. Strangers were trying to take her baby, calling her an insect and a thief, refusing to tell her what happened to Troy and Tyreen, and now one of them was man-handling her out of the door again. “I said let go!” Millie screamed, and grabbed at his wrist. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She felt his blood rushing under his skin, and she felt his bones beneath his muscle, and she felt the strange, intangible energy of his life. Her body--her body, not her stomach--cried out for food, and she snatched at the bands of his life force without thinking. It was good, it was so. Damn. Good. Her eyes rolled back in her head. Clash was the one screaming now, trying to wrench out of her grasp. His skin was turning violet-black, red smoke ringing her arm before it sank into her Siren marks. By the time it occurred to Millie to stop, it was already done. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The husk stood, silent and glittering dully, flakes of ashy dust drifting to the floor. You could have heard a pin drop in the silence of the room. Millie looked at the ashen hand still curled around her arm, and almost screamed. She yanked backwards and the arm burst to dust, sprinkling over her clothes. Millie continued staring at the husk, and covered her mouth with a shaking hand. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He’s dead. He’s dead, I killed him, I leeched him, and now he’s dead. </span>
  </em>
  <span>She backed away, afraid to look at the rest of the warlords. The only one she could still see was Bone Carver, who was gaping at her from next to the door.   </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Millie wanted Troy, she wanted him back so badly it hurt...but no one was coming. The Twins were gone and she was alone. Troy’s voice came to her, much like his sister’s had. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You’re the Siren</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he’d said to Tyreen one day, though Millie couldn’t really recall the context. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You make the fucking rules. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Millie turned her back on the husk, and walked as steadily as she could to her empty chair. She set it back at the table, and sat, forcing her back straight and her eyes forward. “Like I said,” she started, and cringed at the reedy, frightened sound of her voice. She tried again. “Like I said, you aren’t taking my child. You aren’t making decisions about my life without even talking to me. I’m Tyreen’s heir; you said so yourself. So you don’t get it both ways. You’re not going to call me Queen Mother in one breath and an insect in the next. Okay?” The silence continued stretching out. “Okay,” Millie said. “Now, going back one of my many, many questions you refused to answer, what, in the everloving FUCK, happened?”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vido cleared his throat. “Perhaps I should get the Queen Mother up to speed, she’s missed a lot.” He glanced at the husk. “Carver could you--” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bone Carver grunted in response, and drew a nasty looking knife from his belt. He cast a strange look at Millie, and then he smashed the blade into the husk’s back. With a soft and brittle sound, it collapsed into twilight-tinted dust. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>By the time Vido had explained the last 12 hours, Millie’s head was spinning, and the moon had likely long since set outside. The numbness had returned. She didn’t have the strength to feel what he’d told her right now. “Most people outside this room don’t know any of this,” Vido explained carefully. “The truth about the Twins’ plans for Pandora are not public knowledge, and we don’t think now is the right time for that to change.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Millie simply nodded. She wanted to hug her knees to her chest, but she was conscious of how weak that would make her look. Her eyes were getting hot and prickly again. “No,” she said. “I, I understand, it would be chaos--” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s already chaos,” said a warlord that Vido had referred to as Reeves. “That’s why we’re bothering with you at all.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Millie looked at him and snapped, “Stop talking to me like that, I am so sick of it!” She gestured angrily to her left arm. “You could’ve hidden the pregnancy, but you couldn’t hide this!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We couldn’t have hidden the pregnancy,” Carver said. “Secrets leak out of the laundry room like blood out of a tink. How do you think we knew?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Whatever,” Millie said tiredly, and rubbed her hands over her face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We done for now?” Asked the BulletTooth chief, who several of the others had called Aggie.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes.” Vido, Carver, and Millie said simultaneously. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The Queen Mother’s clearly exhausted,” Vido continued, while Carver and Millie glared at each other. “We’ll talk about everything else tomorrow.” Everyone began standing up, and Vido stepped around the table, approaching Millie. “I’ll take her back,” he added, and no one argued. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Millie got to her feet, and silently followed Vido outside. He said nothing as they left Cathedral and crossed under the rapidly lightening sky towards the Calypso’s house, and Millie was grateful for it. She didn’t mind Vido, honestly. At one point, Millie tried to veer right, to go around the structure, but Vido gently caught her by the edge of her shirt. “Millicent,” he said quietly. “Where are you going?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...My bed? I thought?” She said. She wanted to be alone so she could have the screaming break down she so richly deserved. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vido looked mildly annoyed. “You’re not going back to the slave quarters.” He gestured to the Calypso house. “You heard Clash. You’re staying in the Twin Gods’ Quarters.” If remembering his peer’s demise phased him, he didn’t show it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Please no,” Millie said weakly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vido shook his head. “You can’t have it both ways either, Millicent. Are you a slave or a Queen?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Neither, I am neither!</span>
  </em>
  <span> Millie wanted to scream, but followed him inside anyway. The few cultists who had gotten any sleep were already beginning to stir in their rooms. Millie couldn’t hear them so much as sense them as she walked up the stairway to the Twins’ quarters. Life force, strength, sustenance, calling to her, promising another dose of what she’d felt as Clash died. She shuddered. Vido was behind her now, footsteps almost silent on the creaky wood. She might have forgotten he was there if it wasn’t for each set of guards greeting him quietly. They greeted her too; heads ducking, voices lowered, one of them even called her ‘My Queen’. She tried to smile at them, but her mouth wasn’t cooperating.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vido stopped at the top of the stairs. “I will come get you later, Millicent,” he said. “I have to go back to my clan.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For half a second, Millie almost told him to stay. Not with her, just outside her door. But she let him bow, turn, and vanish back down the stairs. He was right; she couldn’t have things both ways. Millie swung the door open, and stepped inside. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>In the early stages of planning this, I promised myself to not make this Game of Thrones in Space, but, alas, I'm a hack. Hope you guys are having fun!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Blood In The Water</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Millie stood in the Calypso’s gloomy common area, and tried to breathe deeply. Her hands clasped tight in front of her chest, the faint blue glow of her new marks lighting up her fingers. She was facing the couch. Beyond it was their TV, a perfect black rectangle watching her passively. To her right was Troy’s desk and computer setup, the kitchenette, and the window seat. Around the slight curve of the room was Troy’s door. She shuddered violently. She could not sleep in there, that was out of the question. To her left was the dining table, Tyreen’s vanity, and then Tyreen’s room. Tyreen’s room was better than Troy’s, but not by much. Her memories of it were different but just as disorienting. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That left the couch. The couch was not an emotionally neutral location either. But it was better. Now, she just needed blankets. Millie breathed in through her nose, and out through her mouth. She turned, stiffly, and walked towards Tyreen’s door. Troy’s blankets, heavy with his scent, were not an option. Tyreen’s door was hanging open like a slack jaw, swallowing Millie as she went inside. Millie looked around reflexively, eyes adjusting to the gloom. Tyreen’s bed was unmade, and her wardrobe doors had been left open as well. Seeing the denser darkness beyond them gave Millie a stab of primal, childish dread. She steeled herself and ran past it, not caring that it was dumb. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She grabbed Tyreen’s comforter and pillow and hauled them up to her chest. She’d come in here to avoid Troy’s scent; she wasn’t braced for Tyreen’s. The smell of Tyreen’s hair and soap hit her like a soft slap and Millie went to her knees. She pressed her face into Tyreen’s pillow and sobbed. She rocked in place, weeping into the thin fabric until her throat ached and her eyes burned. “When did I notice what you smelled like?” Millie gasped, hugging the pillow tighter and doubling over. Her voice was raw, scraping her throat like glass as she spoke. “How much time did I spend with you? How close were you sitting to me that I know what you </span>
  <em>
    <span>smell like</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tyreen didn’t answer. Millie stood up and shuffled towards the living room, still hiccuping. When she reached the couch, she resisted the urge to throw herself on it. She had no idea how fragile the little thing growing inside her was. She was scared of hurting it. Millie curled up under Tyreen’s blanket and put the pillow wet side down. Sniffling, she closed her eyes against the growing blue light that filled the room. “Bastards.” She mumbled. “Lying, horrible, murdering bastards. I hope it hurt the entire time you were dy--” Millie started to sob again. Oh Sophia, they were both dead. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Outside, the sun rose, and Pandora kept spinning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The sky was dark, and getting darker. Stars were blinking out far over head. The compound was empty of life. Only Tyreen’s glittering husks were left behind, twisted in eternal agony. A forest of death. Millie ran between them, feet slicing open on the cracked and crumbling ground, searching for a place to hide. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Millie…” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No no no no no. Most of the buildings had collapsed. No shelter from the wind, which was blowing cold and ominous all around her as Tyreen devoured the galaxy’s light. No shelter from the wind. No shelter from him. “Millie!” He called again. He didn’t sound angry. He sounded concerned. “Millie, come on cutie, where are you?” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Weeping, Millie hid in a dark doorway of the only standing building she could find. She hugged her knees to her chest and tried to breathe as quietly as she could. “Millie!” Troy called, his voice so close. “I know you’re here!” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She wanted to go to him. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Millie, please,” Troy pleaded. “I know how scared you are. Come on, come out, I’m not going to hurt you.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Her resolve snapped. She launched herself out of the doorway and ran towards his dark shape. Millie slammed into Troy’s chest and buried her face in the pocket of his shoulder. “You left me!” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yeah, I did. But I came back, right?” The cold metal of his hand wrapped around her chest. It was bigger now, and before Millie could scream, he tightened his grip. Ribs snapped under his iron fingers, and he grinned at her from a dead face. “I came back. Ty hates loose ends.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She died begging for her child’s life, and Troy kissed her blood soaked mouth and sweetly apologized for lying to her. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Millie was fairly certain she could navigate the Calypso quarters with her eyes closed, but she still tripped over one of Troy’s cables as she ran for the sink in the kitchenette. She’d barely eaten in the last 24 hours, so most of what came up was bile. She stayed, bent over the sink with her shaking arms braced against the counter, until the dry heaves passed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Stop that,” she said, voice a little dazed. “Just...I’m so tired of throwing up, so stop that, okay?” She rested a hand on her belly, and lightly drummed her fingers. “You hear me, Tomorrow?” Much like the scant remains of her last meal, the name came out of her mouth without warning or permission. Millie laughed, the sound a tad bitter. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Millie’s family was big on tradition. One of their more ‘important’ ones was in naming. A Xanth’s first child was named after the day of the week they were born. Millie had grown up with two cousins named Wednesday, an Aunt Sunday, and a brother named Saturday. Her father was called Monday, her grandfather Thursday. And any unborn baby was usually called ‘Tomorrow’. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you hungry?” She asked it. “I am. We should feed you, huh?” Now that the puking was done, for the moment, her body’s other needs were announcing themselves. She was grimy, and starving, and exhausted. Her eyes were burning, and she had that odd achiness that came with lack of sleep. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Millie padded to the fridge. It had a small generator hooked up to it that was neatly hidden in behind a panel in the wall. Millie had had to restart it once or twice. It was working now; she could hear the hum. Inside, the Twins had left most of their food. Millie tried to only assess what she was looking at, instead of thinking about who’d left it there. After a minute, she pulled three or four things out. Instead of dragging herself back to the table, Millie sank to the floor to eat. She ate with her hands too, seeing little point in finding a fork. While she ate, her eyes went to the rug in front of the sink. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The rug was only there to cover up damage to the floor. Troy had collapsed there once, his sabotaged spinal implant wreaking havoc on his lungs, and the frantic clawing of his limbs had scratched and dented the flooring. Tyreen had moved the rug from her room to the kitchen so they didn’t have to look at it anymore. Millie turned her body to the side, leaning against the battered counter, and pretended nothing was there. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Millie finished her “meal” and grabbed the counter to pull herself up. She resisted the urge to clean the dishes immediately, and gingerly washed her own vomit down the sink drain before putting the dishes inside. “Okay,” she said, mostly to herself, and partly to Tomorrow. “We ate. We got food. What do we need to do next?” In Millie’s experience, life was easier when it was simply a list of tasks to accomplish. No need to process, no need to dwell or think. Just one foot in front of the other, one job and then the next.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tomorrow did not have any suggestions, so Millie asked if, maybe, they should change clothes. The ones she was wearing were drenched in sweat and, if she looked closely, had faint violet dust on them. She’d also been in this particular knee-length skirt and faded tee shirt for four, no, five, days. Based on the fact that everything was staying in her stomach, Tomorrow seemed to think that was a great idea. Or, maybe, it was bored of making her vomit.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Millie went to the living room door and stepped out into the hallway. She hadn’t bothered to put her shoes back on. She’d walked the distance between the main house and the slave quarters barefoot before, and she didn’t feel like finding where she’d thrown her sneakers. She was pretty sure they’d ended up under the couch, but she’d flung them away in between ugly sobs and hadn’t seen where they’d landed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The guards on the stairs were still there, and they all scrambled to attention as she walked past them down the steps. There was a nervous flurry of greetings and supplication from them, and Millie cringed at it. She didn’t like the adoration in their eyes, or the fear in their voices. She didn’t like the way they stared at her arm, like it a loaded weapon and an object of admiration. A diamond-studded gun.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At the bottom of the stairs, Milliee veered left, down a familiar narrow hall, and then left again. The door to the laundry room was closed, as usual, but Bust Up was not seated in front of it. Nor was it locked when Millie tried the knob. She could hear voices behind it, and as soon as it opened a crack, she felt life begin seeping out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Inside the laundry room, most of the girls were huddled back against one wall, clutching each other in terror. Wash tubs had been up-ended, soapy water spilling across the cracked tiles, sodden clothes cast about like rocks in a shallow lake. Bust Up had her back to the door, electric yellow hair contrasting violently against her purple shirt. Claudia was lying on her side on the ground before her, and Bust Up was kicking her and shouting obscenities. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” Millie screamed, running down the three short steps into the wet room. The other girls looked up and she heard a disjointed chorus of her name. Claudia lifted her head and gasped “Liebling” as Bust Up rounded on her. Millie kept stomping towards her, feet slipping on the puddles underneath her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bust Up looked at Millie like she was seeing a ghost. “I...she…” She gestured wildly towards Claudia. “She mouthed off!” Bust Up finished lamely. Millie knelt next to Claudia, bending over her protectively. Claudia reached up and touched her face, hand shaking, and Millie clasped her wrist gently.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I thought--I don’t know what I thought,” Claudia gasped. “I had not seen you, no one had seen you. No one would talk to us, I was so afraid--” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m here,” Millie said. “And I am fine.” She lifted her head again. “What happened?!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Claudia wanted to know where you were!” Bianca shouted, and pointed at Bust Up. “She wouldn’t tell us, so Claudia tried to leave and Bust Up just started hurting her!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Millie twisted her head around to look up at Bust Up. Bust Up, for the first time in 2 years, seemed as if she didn’t know what to do. “It’s not her job to know where you are.” Bust Up said finally. “She wouldn’t go back to work or stop trying to leave so--” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It is her job to know where I am,” Millie interrupted. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...What?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It is her job. She’s in charge of all of us, right?” Millie gestured to the other girls. “I’m one of her girls. Didn’t you once threaten to shave her head for not knowing where Heidi was?” Millie stood, helping Claudia to her feet. Claudia embraced her, and Bust Up snarled.       </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do not touch her, insect,” she said, and grabbed Claudia roughly by the arm. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Millie smacked her hand and said, “Stop that, you raving lunatic!” Stunned, Bust Up took a step back. Millie walked Claudia to the door. “Come on, let’s lay you down.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claudia lay her cheek on Millie’s head. “They didn’t hurt you?” She whispered. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They tried. I stopped them.” Millie stopped, and looked over her shoulder. “Girls. You’re done. Go back to the quarters, okay, no more work.” The girls remained frozen, staring at Millie like they had no idea what they were seeing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You can’t just--” Bust Up started, voice shocked and indignant. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can do whatever I fucking want.” Millie snapped, and shoved open the outside door. That seemed to snap her friends from their trances, and they swarmed outside. “Somebody take Claudia!” Millie let Gertrude take Claudia from her arms. “Trudy? Can you get me my clean clothes, from under my bed?” She asked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Millie, no problem!” Gertrude pulled a protesting Claudia from the door, and then Millie slowly turned to face Bust Up. The fate of the other captives had completely slipped her mind. Maybe she’d subconsciously assumed they were still in their quarters. But she certainly hadn’t thought they were still working. Something about her friends still doing laundry while the cult crumbled around their ears struck her as utterly absurd. She wasn’t laughing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Standing in a puddle of grimy water, Bust Up was standing her ground. The bandit glaring back at Millie from behind her mask. “Okay,” Millie said, her voice mostly steady. “If you ever, ever, touch, hurt, or beat one of them again, or call them an insect, you will be punished, severely. Is that understood?” She crossed her arms and waited for an answer. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bust Up laughed. “You don’t tell me what to do.” She stalked closer, and Millie fought down the urge to shrink back. Bust Up loomed over Millie, and said, “The God-King knocked you up, big deal. He was screwing a dozen sluts across the six galaxies; you’re the one who didn’t make him pull out.” Millie hands tightened around her arms, nails biting into her own skin. “You’re a baby box to keep the rabble in line. It worked on them, but you can’t fool me,” Bust Up continued, a sneer in her voice. “You weren’t special and you aren’t special, and the minute the God-King’s bastard falls out of you--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Millie grabbed Bust Up by the throat, silencing her. “Shut up,” she said, voice shaking with rage and humiliation. “Shut your fucking mouth or I will shut it for you. I absolutely tell you what to do. Because I am special.” She tightened her grip, and the raw, hot life in Bust Up’s veins called to her so, so sweetly. Her siren marks were glowing a radioactive blue, lighting the underside of Bust Up’s jaw. The color almost matched the dawn sky she’d fallen asleep to. “And when the God-King’s heir, ‘falls out’ of me, I’ll still be special. Because, I am, a fucking, Siren.” She held Bust Up’s frightened gaze for a few more seconds, and then shoved her away, hard. Bust Up went sprawling to the wet floor, and stared at Millie. “Are you going to beat my friends when I leave?” Millie asked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“N-no…” Bust Up ground out, cowed but not bending. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Millie made a show of inspecting the back of her left hand, flexing her fingers. A gesture she’d seen Tyreen make a hundred thousand times. The blue marks glowed again as she mimicked Tyreen’s little habit and Bust Up’s breath hitched. “No, what?” Millie prompted. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, Queen Mother,” Bust Up said. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good!” Millie said cheerfully. The door banged open behind her, and she turned to see Gertrude coming in. Her arms were full of Millie’s clothes. “Hi, Trudy.” Millie walked to her to take them. “Go raid the kitchens,” she added, bundling the clothes under her right arm.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What, really?” Gertrude blinked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes. Take Bianca, and some of the others that are strong, and bring some stuff back to the slave quarters, okay?” Millie turned again, to where Bust Up was trying to get to her feet. She kept slipping in the puddle, stirring the faint swirls of blood that had dripped from Claudia’s split lip. “Bust Up will take you and make sure no one stops you, won’t you, Bust Up?” . </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They had another stare down, and Bust Up said, “Of course, Queen Mother.” She finally got her feet under her, jeans soaked and sprouting suds. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And after,  she’ll come back here, and clean up the mess she made.” Millie pressed. Tyreen had always said to take things a step too far.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Queen Mother,” Bust Up said grudgingly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Millie turned back to Gertrude, who looked nervous. “She won’t hurt you,” Millie said. “We had a talk.” She started to reach for Gertrude’s shoulder, and stopped when she realized she’d reached with her left hand. “Go, go,” she urged, snatching it back.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gertrude stared at her, and then threw her arms around Millie, squeezing her tight. She was crackling with life and something in the back of Millie’s head gave an excited whine. Gertrude held her for a few seconds before running back out the door. Bust Up squished past, following her out, and Millie caught her by the elbow. “I’m going to ask her later, how you treated her. And if I don’t like what I hear, I’m going to kill you.” She squeezed lightly, and then pried her fingers off. Bust Up left the room, door banging closed behind her, and Millie clutched her ragged clothes. Her hand still tingled from the life she’d very nearly pulled from Bust Up’s body. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Stopping herself was the hardest thing she’d done in a very long time. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>LOL I fucking hate this chapter.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. A Dispute</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Tannis squinted at the piles of ECHO logs and discs in front of her. “You say you took these off of Troy?” she asked, gingerly lifting one blood spattered ECHO log from the pile. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Some of them,” Ava confirmed. She pointed to the smaller pile. “But Moze took those off of Tyreen.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I see...why?” She set the log back down, blood smearing her formerly clean fingertips. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I asked her to. And, because fuck them, mine now,” Ava said simply.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And why are you bringing them to me?” Tannis was starting to have serious concerns about Ava’s urge to acquire and keep. Hoarding was a chronic problem in both Vault Hunters and those coming out of Traumatic Poverty, and Ava was both. Someone (not her) should address that.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Um…” Ava smiled sheepishly. “I thought maybe you like...talk to them and make sure it’s not like...really gross porn or videos of people getting tortured to death or whatever, before I watch all of it.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tannis stared at her from across the table. “Ava,” she said tiredly. “That is not how my powers work. Furthermore, I do not wish to see such things anymore than you do. So why would you subject me to them?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Cuz you’re an adult!” Ava grinned at her. “But really, you don’t have a way to like, see what’s on there before I crack into ‘em? I’m scared to see what made these guys sentimental.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hmm.” Tannis considered, drumming her fingers lightly. She was starting to get curious as well. But she understood Ava’s hesitation. The ECHO logs were only labelled with names and numbers. She’d just been examining MYKA #3. “No, not really,” she said finally. “Beyond the names and a recording date, the most I can get you without just playing them is recording length.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uhg. Guess I just have to risk it.” Ava started gathering up the items, squirreling them away in her pockets and clothes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, no, you don’t.” Tannis said. “You could just, I don’t know, throw them out? Be done with the whole thing and stop wasting valuable brain space on the Calypsos?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Would YOU throw them out?” Ava asked, heading for the door.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, course not, but that’s utterly beside the point!” She called after Ava. None of the names on the logs had meant anything to her. MYKA, VIDO, and HANA, had been in Tyreen’s pile. Troy’s had held B.C., JOEY, and MILLIE. Part of her believed that Ava was right. That the recordings were likely disgusting and graphic in content. But, another part of her could acknowledge that, maybe, just maybe, there were a few moments of humanity that the Calypsos wanted to remember.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Millie stood in the silent laundry room, trying to breathe. She’d almost killed Bust Up. Part of her thought she should have. Flexing her fingers, Millie watched her marks glow again. Their light was warm and inviting. When she was going to leech something, Tyreen had always said she was hungry, that she was starving. Millie hadn’t given much thought as to why. She understood now; hunger was the only word for it. This aching, insistent need. She wondered if what she’d felt yesterday, that desperate starvation, had really been this. The power inside her clamoring for fuel. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Did you feel this all the time? What did Troy feel? </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Millie shuddered, and started to make her way to the door. She wanted to shower and change before going to the infirmary. Her baby had a rough couple of days as well, and Millie wanted to make sure it was alright. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Millie didn’t even consider using Troy’s bathroom. In Tyreen’s shower, she scrubbed at the layers of sweat and grime clinging to her skin. Food she’d been able to share with her friends; showers and baths, not so much. The slave quarters had three shower heads, and everyone got ten minutes a week. She was dressed and rubbing her hair dry when she heard arguing in the hallway. “What now?” Millie stood, dropping the towel onto the couch, and stepped around it. Upon opening the door, she found Bone Carver standing at the top of the stairs, looming over her guards. Both of them had pulled their weapons, but Carver didn’t seem phased by the loaded guns pointed in his face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Let me pass!” He snarled. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uh, no. Sorry. Can’t do that.” Said the guard on the left. His hair was a mess of dark green dreadlocks, and he was brandishing an SMG. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not letting you pass is our entire job,” said the one on the right. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Um, hello,” Millie called, shutting the door behind her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carver looked up and gestured to her, massive arm almost knocking the green haired guard over. “Ask her!” He said, despite the guards clearly getting itchy fingers. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ask me what?” Millie came closer, stopping only a few feet behind her guards. Millie was not a short girl; she stood 5’8, if she remembered right. But Carver, who she guessed was a few inches over seven feet, made her feel tiny. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Queen Mother, is Chief Bone Carver allowed to go to your door directly?” Asked the guard on the right. He hadn’t lowered his shotgun. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Millie looked from them to Carver, who scowled at her expectantly. “No,” she said slowly. “He is not.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We told you!” The guard on the left said triumphantly, and cringed when Carver threw him a burning look. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“When the Twins were alive--” Carver started to say quietly, but Millie shook her head sharply. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t care,” she said. “If my </span>
  <em>
    <span>armed guards</span>
  </em>
  <span> tell you that you have to wait, </span>
  <em>
    <span>listen to them</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” She looked at the guards. “Thank you, boys,” she said, sincerely. “What are your names?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Trigger, Queen Mother,” said the one on the left. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ryan,” said the other. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...Ryan?” Millie repeated. Even Carver looked puzzled. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uh, Ryan, Queen Mother!” Ryan corrected. “Please forgive me!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, that’s not--it’s alright,” Millie said weakly. To Carver, she said, “I’m assuming you needed something from me? Or were you going to smother me?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carver sneered. “No, Queen Mother, of course not,” he ground out, and crossed his arms over his vast chest. Now that there was light pouring through the crude windows, illuminating his dark skin, she could make out a series of tattoos winding up his forearms. She couldn’t tell what they were. “There’s a...dispute, with the BulletTooth chief.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aggie?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Aggie.” He cast another irritated look at the guards and then waved at Millie to follow him. “Come on, I don’t have time.” He turned and started stomping down the stairs. They screeched under his feet. Millie sighed in exasperation, and followed him. She greeted the other three pairs of guards as they passed, and noted that Carver did not. All of the guards were Poison Maw, and Millie vaguely remembered that Death Screamers and Poison Maw had some sort of conflict that stretched back decades. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m surprised they let you up,” she said, worn sneakers touching the floor beyond the stairs and carrying her in his wake. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I had that fight at every fucking landing,” he said over his shoulder. “Each time I only got by when I convinced them only the next men would get in trouble. Then those fuckers at the top--” He cut himself off, shaking his head. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You can’t exactly get mad at them for doing their job,” Millie pointed out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carver sighed. “I know,” he said wearily, and Millie blinked. He shoved open the front door and they emerged into mid afternoon sun. “You should fire the rest, keep those two,” he added. Outside, the clean up efforts from yesterday were continuing. Most of the bodies were gone, to Millie’s relief. But there was the aftermath of widespread fire and prolonged gun battles were still evident. She saw several people sweeping up bullet casing and carrying away dropped or damaged guns. The air was filled with life, all of it tinged with sorrow and pain. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What happened with Aggie?” Millie asked, now jogging to keep up with his strides. “And why do you need me?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Because, if you don’t want two of the biggest clans going to war, you need to settle it,” he barked. He didn’t answer her first question.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This is that serious?” Millie could see now that they weren’t going to the Death Screamers’ house. Whatever the problem was, it seemed to originate on the other side of the compound. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes.” This part of the compound was in better shape, but doors still hung off of hinges and windows were still shattered or blackened. The ButtletTooth house was hard to miss. It had been sloppily painted with the clan’s colors: flaming orange and toxic yellow. Millie intended to ask Carver again what the problem was, but before she could, the shapes in front of the house came into view. Millie stopped short, processing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aggie and two other BulletTooth members were standing over two young men. The men were lying prone, hands behind their heads. Aggie and her people had guns trained on them, fingers on the trigger. Two more people, both standing upright, had their own firearms aimed at Aggie. Both the men--boys, really, about Millie’s age--and their defenders, were dressed in cracking black leather. Sloppy white skulls were embossed on their clothing. Death Screamers. Of course. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Carver,” Millie said, not budging. “How is this a </span>
  <em>
    <span>dispute</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carver, in a mirror of the previous night, put his hand on her back and pushed her forward. “It’s a dispute until triggers are pulled. Then it’s an incident,” he said, grim amusement in his tone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aggie was glaring at Bone Carver. “Do you really think she’s going to side with you?” She demanded, and nudged one of the prone men with her vibrant boot. Brightly polished bullet casings decorated her clothing, mixed in with safety pins and bottle caps, all flashing in the sun. “Your little thieves were in my house, raiding my stores! That’s my clan’s food, and I’ve got every right to defend it!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s defended!” Carver snapped. “They got caught and your stores are intact! And do you think--” He, very lightly, slapped Millie’s back. “She’s going to let you kill them?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“New rule,” Millie said softly, and they both looked at her. “You no longer get to bring me into a situation without telling me what the situation is. What happened?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aggie gestured with her gun, ignoring Millie’s wince and the warning snarls from the Death Screamers watching her. “These two brats broke into my clan’s house and tried to make off with our food supply!” She shouted. “The Calypsos were very clear. Thievery within the cult is punishable by death!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You stole first!” Accused one of the boys lying in the dirt. The BulletTooth members began shouting, angrily defending themselves, until Millie raised her voice. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Enough, enough! I cannot understand when all of you talk at once!” Her head was starting to throb and that desperate, psychic hunger was creeping back in. Did she need to leech every day? Millie dropped to her knees in the dirt, trying to get closer to eye level with the boys. She ignored the gasps that were triggered by the action, and asked, “What do you mean, she stole first?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The boys were looking at her with a sort of frightened awe. So far, it appeared that only the warlords themselves were doubting Millie’s claim; their clansmen certainly seemed to believe it. The boys’ expressions reminded her of the way girls her age looked at her brother, or the way young soldiers looked at her grandfather, and Millie felt a rush of embarrassment. Neither of them was masked; she wasn’t sure when Death Screamers did that for their young, honestly. Finally, the one with blue eyes and a mess of freckles said, “Her clan is hoarding food. They have way too much.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His friend added, “Their clan is smaller than ours, but their storeroom is way more full!” He was just starting to get facial hair, but his cheeks were still baby-round and soft.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Our stores were contaminated. Why should we starve when she has too much to start with?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Millie stood up and looked at Aggie. Aggie was glaring at her, eyes flashing dangerously behind the lens of her mask. It was odd, seeing her in it now that Millie knew what her face looked like. “Are you, hoarding food?” She asked slowly. Clans were supposed to pool resources, then divide them up based on size and need. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No!” Aggie said indignantly. “The boys don’t understand what they saw! And even if I have more food than them, that doesn’t mean they can rob us!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, no, I agree with that part…” Millie looked at the boys, and said, “Can we let them up? No one is shooting anyone.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They tried to rob me!” Aggie repeated. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Millie eyed her, then eyed the boys, and then eyed the other witnesses. “Chief Aggie, are you arguing with me?” Millie asked quietly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...No. No Queen Mother, I am not,” Aggie said grudgingly. She lowered her gun, and the other members of her clan did the same. Carver, without Millie prompting him, snapped his fingers at his men, and they lowered their weapons as well. The boys scrambled to their feet, and the older members of their clan stepped forward and led them away.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>One of the adult Death Screamers grabbed the boys by the upper arm and hissed, “Thank you, you fools.” Both of the boys looked at Millie with worried eyes and mumbled ‘thank you Queen Mother’ before slinking to hide behind their elders. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Millie turned to Bone Carver. “Why didn’t you tell me your clan had no food?” She demanded. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I was going to. And then--” He shot a hard look at the boys who were now hiding behind their armed clansmen. “These two decided to solve the problem themselves and their impending death seemed more pressing.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>To Aggie, Millie said, “Are you low on food?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No. But we need all of it.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s a fucking lie!” One of the boys shouted, and Carver left his post at Millie’s side to stalk towards them. “Both of you, back to your mothers, now!” While Carver herded his people home, Millie turned her attention back to Aggie. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was hard to tell with Aggie’s face covered, but she seemed tense. She was shifting from foot to foot, and her gaze was now trained on Millie’s left ear instead of her face. “We need all of it,” she repeated. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aggie.” Millie sized her up, and took a risk. She stepped closer, and lowered her voice, despite the lack of witnesses left. “What are you not telling me?” Aggie’s clansmen automatically backed away, out of earshot.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t push your luck,” Aggie warned her, briefly meeting Millie’s eyes before looking away again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I will go into your storeroom and I will have somebody weigh what’s in there,” Millie said, absolutely pushing her luck. “I will also send somebody to inspect Carver’s stores, see if he’s really out. I’m sure we can count up your clans and do some basic math, and anything your people don’t need…” Millie trailed off. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aggie blew out an aggravated sigh. “We’re not hoarding the food,” she hissed. “But we have extra, because we </span>
  <em>
    <span>get</span>
  </em>
  <span> extra. We’re--” She glanced around. Other than her two guards, there was no one else present, but she lowered her voice further. “There’s a village, 15 miles over the ridge to the east. We struck a deal. The rest of the food is for them.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Millie gawked at her. “You’re--excuse me?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They,” Aggie groaned in frustration. She scrubbed a hand over her hair, gun now dangling by her side. Millie noticed a Hyperion logo on it and grimaced. “They would let our old members go there. Retire there, when they couldn’t help out anymore,” she explained through gritted teeth. “So we make sure they get food. Tyreen knew about it, she was okay with it. Do not tell anyone, and just...just let it go, alright?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Millie had no idea what to say. Aggie seemed actively embarrassed by the conversation, and that alone made Millie reluctant to question the story. “Tyreen knew?” She said finally. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes. It was one of my terms for joining this circus,” she muttered. The other clan members were nodding. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Millie snorted a laugh at Aggie’s muttering, and said, “Okay. I’m going to confirm your story, but if that’s true, alright. We can, try to keep that a reality. But if Carver’s people are completely out of food--” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah, fine,” Aggie snapped. “Queen Mother,” she added, almost sounding sincere.    </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ava started with Tyreen’s recordings. MYKA #1 was loaded into the ECHO recorder, and Ava braced for the worst as she hit ‘play’. The voice that greeted her was not Tyreen’s; it was sharp, a little whiny, but not unpleasant. The tone was playful as the person talked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Myka: Okay so like...you HAVE to get over this hatred of eye-liner. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tyreen: I don’t even need make-up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Myka: Yeah like, I know that, girl, I KNOW THAT, but come on. You are the PERFECT canvas, let me make you stunning! </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tyreen: I’m already stunning. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Myka: One Queen to another, work with me here, Calypso! I’m not talking about some boring-ass no make-up look. I’m talking about making those eyes of yours realllllly pop. Please, please, please, plea--</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tyreen: Uhg, fine. Go ahead. But if I hate it, I am feeding you to rakks, I swear to fuck, Myka. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Myka: Wooooooo, yes! You will not regret this, baby!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ava frowned, pausing the log. There were still a few minutes left on that one, but she pulled it out. “Myka...Myka…” She mumbled. On her ECHO, grimacing to herself, she pulled up the Calypso wiki and typed the name into the search bar. Myka Terrace had an entry, which she tapped and skimmed. Myka had been Tyreen’s stylist, in charge of her hair, her clothes, her make-up. The wiki had a few photos of them, pink mohawk and glittery silver eyeshadow against cool brown skin. Ava scrolled further down. Myka had been killed in a shootout between the COV and the CRimson Raiders over a year and a half before. Not even a combatant; just collateral damage. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Slowly, Ava put in the next log, and hit play. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Near Death</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Carver came back, and Aggie had slunk off into her house, Millie started hounding him to let her see his stores. Instead of trying to find her way to the infirmary, she was currently following Bone Carver back to the Death Screamers’ house. </p><p> </p><p>“I do not need your help,” Carver barked over his shoulder. He was putting far less effort into respecting her alleged station now, continuing to argue with her as they passed other cultists. </p><p> </p><p>“You needed it five minutes ago!” Millie said. </p><p> </p><p>“That was dealing with another clan,” Carver shot back. “This is dealing with my own people.” </p><p> </p><p>“You can’t have it both ways! We went over this!” Millie went from a jog to a sprint and got in front of him, turning around to face him and planting her feet. </p><p> </p><p>He stopped short, scowling down at her. He wasn’t masked; Millie wasn’t sure why. “Queen Mother,” he ground out, finally seeming to notice they were in public. “There are other things you need to deal with. My clan’s food is my business. YOU need to keep us from collapsing.” He paused, looking around them, and then back down at her. He lowered his voice. In stilted, uncertain Anholtan, he told her, “<em>I know you insect hive raised you to be soft, but stop it.</em>” </p><p> </p><p>Millie let him step around her and stride off. Fine then. What did she care? It didn’t matter what they called her or how many towns they were secretly feeding; they were bandits and terrorists, and she was a hostage. She shook her head, furious with herself for getting caught up, and began walking back towards the Cathedral. This part of the camp she knew now; she’d walked it with Carver yesterday. </p><p> </p><p>“You shouldn’t let him speak to you like that.” Vido’s voice was moderately disdainful as he fell into step next to her. Many of Vido’s clan wore bandit masks over their head wraps, but Vido skipped it. </p><p> </p><p>“Where did you come from?” Millie asked tiredly. Her headache had receded briefly; now it was back, throbbing in her temples and making her bones whine with hunger. She veered right when she broke into the open mall in front of the Cathedral. The infirmary she could, unfortunately, find with her eyes closed. </p><p> </p><p>“I’ve been looking for you. The Chiefs need to meet again.” </p><p> </p><p>“Not now, I need to see Cara.” </p><p> </p><p>“...Cara?” </p><p> </p><p>Millie stopped dead in her tracks and turned to stare at him. “You have met her at least five times,” she said incredulously. “Sings bizarre songs with zero provication? Actually has a degree? Was in the room when we met?” Vido continued to look at her with no recognition. Millie groaned. “The...tink...doctor?” She said carefully. </p><p> </p><p>“Why do you need to see her?” </p><p> </p><p>Millie shook her head. “Unbelievable.” She resumed walking and Vido continued following her. </p><p> </p><p>“Is something wrong with your child?” He asked. </p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know, that’s why I’m going to Cara,” Millie said, exasperated. “The baby is more important, right?” There was an awkward pause. “Look, round them up while I have Cara check me over, okay?” She snapped. “And not in that room from last night!” She added. The thought of being packed into a room with that much life and unable leech had her breakfast trying to come back up. </p><p> </p><p>“Throne Room, then?” He asked dryly. </p><p> </p><p>“...No,” Millie said, grabbed at her throat and trying to fight her bile down. She’d only been in the actual throne room once and that was not something she could--Millie lost her fight and threw up at her own feet. When she was done, she wiped her mouth, stepped around it, and resumed walking. Daring Vido to comment. </p><p> </p><p>“Where else are we going to fit 15 warlords?” He said in exasperation. </p><p> </p><p>“I don’t care! Not the Throne Room! Do not argue with me!” Vido groaned and apparently relented. He gave her a terse, “Queen Mother,” inclined his head sharply, and strode off. Millie grumbled to herself the entire walk to the infirmary, limbing shaking, head splitting. She needed to leech soon or she was going to lose control. </p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> Before the death of the Calypsos, Millie met Vido Stonefang twice. Both times because of failed assassintion attempts. The first came about six months after she started sleeping with Troy. He’d called her up to their quarters, asking her to “celebrate” something with him; she couldn’t remember what. Millie did remember noticing that his spinal rig was different. Clean, white pieces with sickly green lights had replaced some of the glossy black ones. She could remember running her fingers over them, asking if they were Bradshaw. They were. </p><p> </p><p>Millie suspected he might be getting tired of her. He hadn’t wanted to see her for a couple of weeks before this. He seemed oddly grimer. A few times, she’d shyly prodded at him about it, but he’d sharply shut her down. Millie had heard a few rumors that there had been a death in the Calypso inner circle, but her curiosity wasn’t yet outweighing her caution. Troy hadn’t hit her for roughly a month; he wasn’t in a positive mood but he hadn’t been particularly cruel yet. She was eager to keep that streak going. It had been different today. Maybe it was the upgrades to his arm, maybe they’d hit a milestone. Either way, he’d seemed much more enthusiastic about her presence today. Millie hated her stomach for being the reason she was relieved; him losing interest meant she lost food. </p><p> </p><p>She was getting dressed in Troy’s room and looking around for her basket when she heard a dull thud, followed by Tyreen screaming. Millie jumped and stared at the door. Tyreen screamed again. Millie kicked her basket aside and stumbled out of Troy’s room and into the common area. She saw the Twins just as she was pulling her shirt back into place over her torso. </p><p> </p><p>Tyreen was kneeling in the kitchen, leaning over Troy, who was convulsing violently on the floor. His cybernetic arm was hanging limp while his legs kicked randomly. His lips were going blue and blood vessels had burst in his eyes. "Oh Sophia!" Millie ran towards them, dropping to the floor next to Tyreen. </p><p> </p><p>“He just collapsed. He said he couldn’t breathe--” Tyreen said. </p><p> </p><p>Troy thrashed on the floor, gasping for air, and his flesh arm clawed at his right shoulder. “Off!--” He managed, voice twisting with agony. “Tyreen!--” </p><p> </p><p>Millie got it. She couldn’t remember how exactly she got it, but she got it. “Turn him over,” she said, scrambling over to the table and groping around on top of it until her hand closed around a serrated knife. “On his stomach, now!” She went back to them, and Tyreen, wonder of wonders, had just done what Millie said. </p><p> </p><p>“What are you doing?!” She demanded, as Millie clumsily hacked apart the back of his coat. Once enough of the worn and thin leather was wrenched away, she plunged the knife into the razor-thin gap between the third and fourth panels down. Nothing, Troy continued to gasp helplessly and the rig’s lights blinked at her like indifferent eyes. Millie cursed, pulled the knife back, and moved it up one, between the second and third panels. There, resistance that wasn’t flesh. She twisted the knife hard. The thin blade snapped, the lights on Troy’s prosthetic rig all went black, and Millie was electrocuted. </p><p> </p><p>Her vision and hearing fuzzed out, and her right arm was numb and tingling. She slumped over, knife sliding from her limp fingers. While she tried to ride out the pain in her arm, Tyreen leaned over her, stricken face filling her vision. Millie blinked hazily, and saw that Tyreen’s eyes were wet. “Hey,” Tyreen said thickly. “What uh…” She cleared her throat. “What did you do?” </p><p> </p><p>“He was grabbing at his spinal rig.” Millie slurred. Her tongue felt a little numb. “The new pieces looked like Bradshaw.” She swallowed and clicked her tongue a few times until her mouth got moist again. Her head was clearing. “There’s like a big cable...thing? That you can like...unplug or something, and the whole thing shuts off.” She tried to snap her fingers, but found she couldn’t move them. She just waved her hand instead. “Like that.” </p><p> </p><p>Tyreen nodded, and helped Millie sit up. “Uh. You did good, Millie.” Tyreen squeezed her shoulder with a shaky hand. “You did real good.” Troy groaned, regaining consciousness, and Tyreen’s eyes widened. She turned away from Millie and crawled back to him. “Hey baby,” she said softly. “You still with me?” </p><p> </p><p>Troy, still face down on the floor, said, “I’m going to kill that son of a bitch.” Tyreen started laughing, an edge of hysteria to her voice, and Millie relaxed a little. Her hand still throbbed.  </p><p> </p><p>About twenty minutes later, Millie was in the infirmary, having her electrical burns treated. The medic (Millie couldn’t bring herself to call these people ‘doctors’ yet) who was bent over her arm was called Cara, and she had actually been fairly nice as she worked on Millie’s injured hand. She was raving mad; kept calling Millie ‘Mousy’ and randomly broke into song. She was quietly improvising a song about why Millie didn’t need a skin graft when The curtain surrounding her bed was pulled back. Cara looked up, clearly annoyed. She and Millie both went still and silent.</p><p> </p><p>The man who’d pulled back the curtain was dressed in dark blue, loose-fitting clothes that covered him from his toes to his chin. A veil was draped over his face, leaving only his eyes exposed. There was a gun and several odd looking knives at his belt, and the glint of scuffed metal drew Millie’s eyes. “Out,” the man said to Cara, voice cold. She finished bandaging the burn and fled, leaving him and Millie alone. The door to the crude hospital wing banged shut and Millie flinched. </p><p> </p><p>The man sat on the end of her bed, and Millie drew her legs closer to her chest. A childish urge to make herself small. His eyes were a pale pinkish-violet, and the expression in them made her feel distinctly cornered. “You saved the God-King,” he said, flatly. </p><p> </p><p>“Um. Yes.” Millie eyed him. “Who are you?”</p><p> </p><p>He began unwrapping his veil. His thick white hair lay against his skull in a tight braid, stray wisps framing his impassive face. “I am Vido, chief of the Cave Spiders. I also act as the security chief for the Twin Gods.” He said, and then continued, “Awfully convenient, you knowing how to disable that thing.” </p><p> </p><p>“Um. No. Not really.” She said. “All Bradshaw spinal implants have that emergency shut-off.” She stopped, thinking. "Well, it's not a shut off, it's just a big important cable--"</p><p> </p><p>Vido interrupted her. “One, how did you know that was the problem, and two, how did you know how to disable Bradshaw equipment? How did you even know it was Bradshaw?” He added, eyeing her with mild disdain. He didn’t sound like most of the bandits she’d met. He spoke calmly, didn't snarl or threaten, and seemed to be oriented and fully present in the conversation. Then again, Troy said a lot of the war lords and chiefs were more level-headed than their followers. </p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>Millie frowned at him and sat up straighter in the narrow bed. “Why are you interrogating me? I saved him!” She protested. </p><p> </p><p>“Yes, that’s another question I have,” he said dryly. “You don’t exactly have a reason to want him alive, do you?” The way he said it made it perfectly clear he knew.</p><p> Millie bristled, strangely hurt. “Tyreen was watching!” That was a lie. The truth was, it had simply never occurred to her to not save him. He was dying, she could prevent it, so she did. “And I knew it was a Bradshaw because my father lost both of his legs in the last Dahl-Hyperion conflict. My mother works for Bradshaw; he uses her company's prosthetics. So yeah, me and Saturday know how they work, okay?” She crossed her arms and scowled at him. Her hand hurt like a bitch and she hoped he'd take her explanation and go.  </p><p> </p><p>Vido looked at her, and asked calmly, “Your father was in the corporate wars?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes! You wanna look him up?” Millie snapped, not thinking about why she didn't want that. </p><p> </p><p>“Who is ‘Saturday’? Is that your brother?” He asked. </p><p> </p><p>“...Yes,” Millie said cautiously. “Good guess…” Her irritation was being traded out for anxiety. Why had she opened the door regarding her family? Why was she so stupid?</p><p> </p><p>He tilted his head, seeming to be thinking. “So your father fought for Dahl. Does your brother serve their military too?” The look in his eye was different. He didn't seem to be accusing her anymore but Millie was certain she'd only gotten off that hook by swallowing another.</p><p> </p><p>“I never said he fought for Dahl--” Millie mumbled weakly, cold dread filling her stomach. </p><p> </p><p>"What is your family name?" He asked, voice hard. </p><p> </p><p>Millie just stared back, refusing to answer. </p><p> </p><p>Vido narrowed his eyes at her. “Is your father Lt. General Monday Xanth?” Millie went rigid at the sound of her father's name, and it seemed the look on her face was answer enough. Vido blew out a sigh. “Making your grandfather General Thursday Xanth, and your brother Captain Saturday Xanth.” He said, aggravation clear in his voice.  </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah. That’s my family,” Millie admitted, and slumped back down. Damn it. She'd been so careful. Claudia was going to break down into hysterics. She’d worked so hard to keep who Millie was a secret, all the girls had.  </p><p> </p><p>“Very clever, hiding that." Vido told her, dryly.  Your family is close with Dahl leadership. You’re a bit too high-value to keep or even ransom; every moment you're here--" </p><p> </p><p>"Risks Dahl finding out and storming this compound with an army three times the size of the COV's populace." Millie finished, suddenly very tired. </p><p> </p><p>Vido nodded. "I’d have made the twins kill you and feed your body to the rakks.” He said bluntly. Vido stood and began re-tying his head wrap. “Too late for that, I suppose. We’ll just have to keep you further away from the cameras.” He moved towards the door, and Millie called after him. </p><p> </p><p>"How'd you know about Saturday?" </p><p> </p><p>Vido looked back at her. "We're harboring slaves from Dahl, Hyperion, and Atlas controlled planets. It's my job to know those corporate armies, and your family aren't exactly low profile employees. So, Dahl made a bit of a fuss about a high ranking general's granddaughter going missing on her way to Saxony." He sighed again. "I should have known who you were." He added, sounding frustrated. He left. </p><p> </p><p>Millie lay in the infirmary for a few hours, stewing. The thought of trying to get glimpsed by the Twins’ cameras had occurred to her, multiple times. She’d never seen an opportunity, and the chance of anyone from Dahl or Anholt recognizing her was slim to none. </p><p> </p><p>The other thought she’d had was stealing an ECHO, likely Troy or Tyreen’s, and trying to contact one of Dahl’s stellar bases. Scream her name and location to anyone who’d listen, and pray that Dahl soldiers would come rushing in to save Captain Saturday’s baby sister. Another slim chance, and even that was gone now. Now that they knew who she was, any Dahl ships in the atmosphere would mean a bullet between her eyes. Her brooding ended when somebody came to bring her back to the Calypso house. Troy ducked out of an ‘interrogation’ session to embrace her and kiss her forehead. “Tell your friends downstairs they’ve got the week off, and double rations too,” he said. Millie tried to focus on his voice, not on the weakened whimpers coming from the room behind him. “Good girl, Millie, you were very good.” Troy praised her one last time, before sending her away.    </p><p> </p><p>‘That son of a bitch’ that Troy had been brutalizing turned out to be a cultist named Stu. Stu had been the assistant to Troy’s personal mechanic, Joey. Until Joey had bit the dust about a month before the attack. She’d fallen into a machine designed to shred scrap metal, and Stu took over. Once he was in charge of maintaining Troy’s arm, he started making ‘modifications’. Among the Bradshaw based upgrades he installed was some of Stu’s personal tech; tiny hidden devices on a remote timer. Once activated, they began firing jolts of electricity up Troy’s spine, disrupting his brain stem and causing his lungs to stop working. </p><p> </p><p>Stu didn’t give answers to Troy alone; just raved and screamed until Troy gave up. The Twins, true to form, broadcast Stu’s trial and execution, figuring that if he didn’t want to talk, he could be a spectacle instead. The Anholtan girls and the camp’s other slaves only rarely saw the cult’s propaganda, but on this occasion the entire compound stopped working to watch. To kick off the show, Stu was tortured for over three hours, by a rotating cast of the Twins’ faithful. The entire time, he was told to repent, told to explain, told to make his actions make sense. </p><p> </p><p>In the end, he was hung above the floor of the Throne Room to make his case to his Gods. Stu dangled from massive steel hooks that had been driven all the way through his arms. Blood dripped from the ragged skag bites that littered his legs and torso. One foot was gone, sawed off completely, and his teeth had been pulled from his gums. Blood spilling from his lips, he wheezed out a confession: he’d killed Joey Sparker, trying to get close enough to tamper with Troy’s rig. </p><p> </p><p>“Why?” Troy asked, into the now silent room. It was the first thing he’d said all day. Even Tyreen seemed to have grown uncomfortable with the hate boiling off Troy's skin.</p><p> </p><p>“You are an abomination,” Stu said, calmly. “You should not exist.” </p><p> </p><p>Troy beat him to death with his bare hands while Tyreen watched coldly from her throne. There was no music, no cheering from the crowd, no taunts from the twins. Only the sounds of Stu dying as Troy took his pound of flesh. Afterwards, standing over the broken body of his attempted assassin, the mics picked up Troy’s next words. “I liked Joey.” </p><p> </p><p>Stu’s corpse lay rotting in front of the Cathedral for weeks. </p><p> </p><p>Vido, of course, told the Calypsos who she was. Their attitudes towards her changed, somewhat. Cameras and ECHOs were now banned in their quarters while Millie or any of the Anholtan girls were going to be present. Tyreen made a few cracks about how hot Saturday was, threw out a few snotty comments about Hyperion beating Dahl, asked Millie if her family had been sending her into exile. “That why you got snatched all by yourself, Mills?” She’d asked, watching Millie make her bed from her vanity. </p><p> </p><p>“I was at school on Prussia when my family's colony ship was due to leave for Saxony,” she said, forcing her voice to steady and flat. She didn’t want to talk about this. But Tyreen didn’t care what Millie wanted. “My mother agreed I shouldn’t leave school halfway through the year, so myself and several other girls from my school went on a later ship.” </p><p> </p><p>“Oh wow...that SUCKS,” Tyreen laughed. “Holy shit, that is--wow, Mills, that is SAD.” There was a knock, announcing the arrival of Myka, and Millie was allowed to slink away to sob silently in private.  </p><p> </p><p>The second assassination attempt came mere weeks after the first, and neither of the Twins were its target. Recently, Troy had been ‘suggesting’ Millie spend more and more time upstairs. She was bringing dry clothes upstairs to fold them while sitting in the Twin’s quarters instead of doing so downstairs. She was also taking over more and more of their personal care and housework. </p><p> </p><p>She...kind of, didn’t mind it. Tyreen’s attitude towards her had changed slightly after the Stu Incident. She was less purposefully menacing, more likely to joke, and had developed a habit of tossing a couple treats Millie’s way when they crossed paths. Now that she was used to it, Troy’s touch was now almost tolerable when it was casual. Millie liked listening to him and his sister talk. It was more interesting than any other stimulation or entertainment she had access to right now, to be honest. Lately, they were even beginning to talk to her, not just around her. </p><p> </p><p>Millie was walking back downstairs to the laundry room, trying to fight down a smile. Troy had grabbed her hand, lightly kissed her knuckles, and said, “Come see me later, pretty girl,” right before she’d walked out of his door. She didn’t want to like his attention. But when 99% of it went to Tyreen, it was nice to get the remaining 1%. When she reached the bottom of the staircase and started walking towards the laundry room, someone called to her. “Curly!” </p><p> </p><p>A masked bandit approached her, and Millie did her best to not openly cowar. She could see his feverish eyes behind the lens of his odd silver mask, and there was a poorly bandaged wound on his shoulder, leaking blood into the linen. “Here,” he said gruffly, shoving a small, battered cardboard box into her free hand. “Token of the God-King’s favor,” he growled, and then darted off. Millie squinted at the box, shrugged, and added it to her basket. </p><p> </p><p>Later that day, after their work was done, the girls started dividing up Millie’s spoils. In the beginning, some of the girls had whispered about her. Had called her a whore and a traitor. But their protests died as the food and perks kept coming. Millie couldn’t set them free, but she was damn well going to shelter them if she could. Her friends eating happily, Millie sat on her bed and picked up the little box. She flipped the lid off and caught herself smiling again. Chocolate dipped strawberries. A little shrivelled and old, but still. She tried to savor them, but ended up practically scarfing the treats instead. </p><p> </p><p>An hour later, her stomach started to hurt. </p><p> </p><p>An hour after that, she started vomiting and her muscles cramped all over her body. </p><p> </p><p>And another hour after that, Claudia sent Bianca and Judith running to find a medic. Millie's heart was beating irregularly, lesions were opening up on her stomach, and the only thing she was vomiting up anymore was blood. Millie was dazed and barely conscious, sliding in and out of fever dreams. Shapes hovered overhead, talking indistinctly, but she barely recognized them as people. Once and a while she recognized voices through the cotton in her mind; Claudia...the doctor called Cara...Bianca and Gertrude and the others...one or twice she thought she heard Troy. Sometimes the shapes injected her with something, or tipped her head back to coax her to drink water or medicine. Millie wondered if her head would hurt less after she died.</p><p> </p><p>Troy hadn’t sent the strawberries, of course. The chocolate had been laced with a heavy metal called arsenic. Millie had never heard of it; it didn't occur naturally on Anholt, which likely explained why it started killing her within hours. But, the assassins had used too much, it turned out. Her immune system had gone into overdrive and purged her body for two straight days. Millie came out the other side physically battered and dangerously dehydrated, but not permanently harmed. </p><p> </p><p>When she was well enough, two of Vido's Cave Spiders came to bring her to the Calypso’s house. She hadn't been allowed out of her quarters during her recovery, and Vido's men insisted that she cover her face before they let her outside. </p><p> </p><p>In the very same board room where Millie would meet with the Council of Chiefs for the first time, the Twin Gods and Vido sat waiting for her. Normally, Millie would be bowing, or at least lowering her head, averting her eyes. But she was exhausted and angry and was in no mood to play People-Pleaser. “Is there a reason I was brought here in a mask?” Millie asked, as the door shut behind her. As soon as she’d pulled her mask off, Troy was on his feet, striding across the room. </p><p> </p><p>“Millie--” He grabbed her and squeezed her tight to his chest. Millie stiffened, and then slowly relaxed. Her skin still felt clammy and tender, and he was warm. She’d been so relieved when Cara had whispered to her that poison wasn’t his doing, and had caught herself missing him the other day. Troy rubbed her back and kissed the top of her head, then released her. He returned to his chair beside Tyreen, who was drumming her fingers against the tabletop. </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, sorry about the sneaking around, Mills, but Vido thinks pretending you're dead will keep these jackasses from bolting.” Tyreen said. She looked angry. Not annoyed, not bored. Angry.  </p><p> </p><p>“Besides, I do love a dramatic reveal,” Troy added. There was little humor in his voice. </p><p> </p><p>Vido was looking at Millie with a deeply unimpressed expression. “Did that ‘gift’ not strike you as weird? At all?” He asked tiredly. </p><p> </p><p>“No,” Millie sighed. “I just...I didn’t think. I know better now,” she added. She’d been thinking the same thing earlier. </p><p> </p><p>Vido rolled his eyes. “Whatever. I believe I know who did this.” </p><p> </p><p>“Apparently, it was not one of Troy’s psycho fan girls,” Tyreen said. </p><p> </p><p>“No, but I assumed that too.” Vido spread out a stack of cheap-looking printouts, and Millie leaned over to look at them. They looked like screen grabs from Troy’s cameras and showed shirtless men and women in silvery gas masks. She looked at Vido questioningly. "These are the Dust Dancers.” He explained. </p><p> </p><p>“Uhg. Of course it's them. They keep coming to the Cathedral, whining about us having central planet people on the compound,” Tyreen said, sounding aggravated. “They want all of you killed or hurled into space or something, think you’re like a demon or whatever.” </p><p> </p><p>“...A demon?” Millie repeated. </p><p> </p><p>“Cuz we didn’t force prisoners to convert.” Troy said. The twins never said ‘slave’ if they could avoid it. Prisoners was the term they preferred to use. “Their chief is hella paranoid about ‘corruption’.” He and Tyreen actually rolled their eyes in unison, and some small part of Millie felt a little swell of affection. She tried to banish it. “They think we should be exterminating Vido’s guys too.” Troy added, casting a look to his security chief. </p><p> </p><p>Millie returned to the photos and picked one up. "I know this man," she said. She turned it to show the other three. "The big bandage on his shoulder, he had that when he gave me the box." </p><p> </p><p>"He gave you the strawberry?" Troy asked sharply.</p><p> </p><p>Millie looked over at him and blanched. He looked absolutely livid. "Yes." She softly. "It was him."</p><p> </p><p>Troy nodded, and looked at Tyreen. "I'm killing him." </p><p> </p><p>Troy wasn't kidding; he really liked a dramatic reveal. Millie spent roughly four days hidden away in the laundry room while Vido got answers. Finally, he had names, six of them in fact, and he slipped the list to Tyreen. Four days was plenty of time for Troy to plan a sufficiently horrible fate for the conspirators. On the day in question, he insisted on dressing Millie up. New, nice clothes that made her look soft and pampered and delicate. "I'm sending a message. You're valuable to me and I'm gonna make you look like it." Troy had said, tipping up Millie’s chin to meet his eyes. She forced a smile, because he clearly expected one. The clothes felt odd after months in rags: too stiff, too heavy.</p><p> </p><p>When the accused Dust Dancers arrived at the Cathedral, both Twins were seated on their thrones, acting as if everything was normal. Millie stood in the wings of the dais, waiting nervously. She wondered if any of them sensed what was coming. After a few minutes of completely innocuous conversation, Troy casually gestured with one arm, and Millie walked into view. The six Dust Dancers all went rigid, staring at her as she slowly sat down between the two thrones. Troy had dressed her up to make a point; he drove it home further by resting his left hand on her head and gently stroking her hair. </p><p> </p><p>"You guys know Millie!" Tyreen said cheerfully. "Hey, wanna hear a fun fact about her? She's alive!" </p><p> </p><p>"Now," Troy drawled, toying with one of Millie's curls. "Do you want to explain why the fuck you tried to murder one of my girls? My favorite one, in fact." Millie went red, but forced herself to keep looking at them.  </p><p> </p><p>The six bandits stood, trembling silently, looking between Millie and the twins. "Do not make me repeat myself!" Troy snapped and all of them jumped and cowered. Millie felt her lip start to curl. Normally, she hated this. Hated seeing Troy and Tyreen bring down their "godly wrath". But she’d vomited up and sweated out most of her compassion earlier that week. </p><p> </p><p>Troy did not, in fact, repeat himself, and Tyreen didn’t speak up either. Finally, one of the men looked at Tyreen and said pleadingly, "God Queen Tyreen, we feared for your brother's safety! The Anholtan whore has bewitched him--" </p><p> </p><p>Millie winced. That was a big mistake. "He was the one talking, not me," Tyreen corrected, as Troy's metal hand creaked dangerously on the arm of his throne. The man looked at Troy, eyes comically wide. The other five were looking at Millie, who glared back at them, trying to posture with a confidence she didn’t feel.  </p><p> </p><p>Troy snarled, "Bewitched me? How fucking superstitious are you idiots?" </p><p> </p><p>"She brings her heretic language and her false goddess!" Protested another bandit. "We worried that the demon Sophia would poison your soul and corrupt the Children of the Vault!"</p><p> </p><p>A third cried, "She is only a slave, and her death would protect you, our gods, from destruction!" </p><p> </p><p>Troy started laughing. Rough and angry. "Yes," he said, and Millie didn't need to look up to know he was grinning. "She's a slave. A very <em>expensive</em> slave. A slave I like a lot more than you.” He dragged her knuckles down her cheek. “You’re worried about her ‘false god’? She's not exactly preaching to me." Tyreen snickered at his suggestive tone and Millie cringed, humiliated. "So, I don't care if you think she's corrupting me, or destroying the COV, or poisoning the water supply!" Troy stood up and stalked forward, stopping at the edge of the dais to loom over his cowering betrayers. Tyreen got to her feet and followed him. She brushed a hand over Millie's shoulder, and one of the bandits groaned in misery. "She belongs to me," Troy continued, voice low and harsh. "You do not get to damage something that belongs to me, and get away with it. Tyreen?" He gestured to the bandits. </p><p> </p><p>"With pleasure!" Tyreen sang, stepping onto the floor. The swirling Siren marks on her arm were glowing, and her slender fingers seemed to beckoning as she walked closer. Reddish mist began flowing from the bodies of five of the bandits. The skin of their arms and chests began hardening and turning black, small chucks were breaking off as the men struggled. They started screaming and thrashing, and Tyreen sighed in pleasure as the smoke sank into her skin. Millie shrank back instinctively, resisting the urge to reach for Troy. She hadn’t gotten a good view of Tyreen feeding before. It was slower than she’d expected. Or maybe Tyreen was just drawing it out. </p><p> </p><p>The sixth bandit, the one with the shoulder wound, seemed to realize there was no mercy in store for him. He turned and ran for the Cathedral doors, dodging the crystallizing bodies of his clansmen. There was nowhere for him to go; the Cathedral doors had been sealed from the other side. Millie watched him rattle the chained doors, wailing for mercy. </p><p> </p><p>Troy pulled Millie to her feet, startling her. He kissed her right palm, lips brushing the pale scar of her electrical burn, and then stepped down from the dais. He strode after the final bandit, passing Tyreen as she finished off her meal. He drew a pistol from his waistband, cocking it casually as he walked. "Hey!" He shouted. "Fucking look at me while I'm killing you!" </p><p> </p><p>The bandit looked over his shoulder, screamed, and rattled the door harder. He was sobbing, desperate, broken sounds. Millie's fists curled. She could still remember the taste of her own blood smearing her teeth, the sight of her hair clinging to her pillow as it began falling out, the pain of the lesions still healing on her torso. She was glad he was dying scared, she was <em>glad</em>. </p><p> </p><p>Troy whirled the bandit around and slammed him against the door, metal hand splayed across the man’s scarred torso. The bandit was howling, clawing uselessly at Troy’s wrist and pleading for his life. He swung between calling Millie a heretic witch and promising to never disobey again. Troy pressed the gun to his forehead. "Fucking psycho hick," he growled, and pulled the trigger. The Cathedral doors were painted with greyish brain matter and dark blood, and the bandit’s limp body slumped over. Troy let it drop and walked away. There was gore spattered on his clothes and Millie tasted bile in her mouth again. </p><p> </p><p>Tyreen looked at him. "So, we wiping out their whole clan or are we stopping with these six?" She asked, brushing purple-black dust from her coat. The husks of her victims remained frozen around her, mouths still open. </p><p> </p><p>Troy made a noise of disgust. "Their clan's tiny," he said. "And they're trouble makers. Always picking fights at the worst times." </p><p> </p><p>"I agree. So that settles it; they're gone." She looked over her shoulder at Millie and grinned widely. "You okay back there, kiddo?" She teased. </p><p> </p><p>"...Yes." </p><p> </p><p>Troy looked at Millie and his face softened. "Go wait for me," he said. "I'll get cleaned up and meet you at our place, okay?" </p><p> </p><p>She nodded, stood up on legs that were barely steady, bowed, and fled. At the Calypso house, in the relative safety of Troy's bedroom, she curled up in his chair and sobbed quietly. It was horror over what she'd seen and anger at the men who'd targeted her and self hatred over the fact that she was happy they were dead. Before Pandora, she'd never hated anyone, and now she hated more people every day. </p><p> </p><p>Millie spent the night in Troy's room. It was her first time sleeping in his bed. To her surprise, Troy didn’t ask her to do anything. He just held her in his lap while he watched a few movies, sometimes burying his face in her hair. He tried to make her laugh, and Millie did giggle a few times. “Hey,” he murmured gently, when the TV was off and she was settled against his chest. “You’re not a witch, okay?” </p><p> </p><p>Millie took a risk. “And you’re not an abomination.” She felt him inhale sharply behind her, and then he was smiling against the back of her neck.   </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. It's A Brand New Day</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> HANA #1  </em>
</p><p>*gunfire, engine sounds, shrieks of pain, ambient noise of tires over gravel* </p><p> </p><p>Tyreen: You okay back there, baby? </p><p> </p><p>Hana: Focus on driving, Tyreen! *more gunfire, identifiable as an SMG* </p><p> </p><p>Tyreen: You know, I can pull over and--</p><p> </p><p>Hana: SHUT UP AND DRIVE!--My fucking gun is jammed! </p><p> </p><p>Tyreen: Okay, I’m taking care of this! *sounds of a car grinding to a halt* </p><p> </p><p>Hana: *inarticulate screaming* </p><p> </p><p>Tyreen: Oh right. You have an axe. And you are not afraid to use it. *distant sounds of slaughter and death* She’s so hot when she’s beheading my enemies. </p><p> </p><p>-</p><p>Cara was alright, which Millie was glad about. She had several dark, dramatic bruises standing out against her fair skin and she was bandaged in a few places. Her arm was in a sling, recovering from a dislocated shoulder. Despite this, she’d still pulled on her grubby lab coat and both of her heavy black gloves. Cara seemed utterly unfazed by Millie’s new station and title; maybe she knew it was bullshit. Regardless of why, it was strangely nice that she still called Millie ‘Mousy’. She took some blood, had Millie pee in a cup, and gave her a physical. It was clear she took great delight in being able to exam Millie’s siren marks.</p><p> </p><p>“You know, Mousy,” Cara said cheerfully, “Most Siren tattoos extend over the chest AND mark the face as well.” She reached out with her good arm and tapped Millie’s breastbone. “The Calypso marks are quite unique, quite unique! Well, I suppose they aren’t Calypso marks anymore...anywho! Aside from the God-King’s marks being red, which is BONKERS, Tyreen’s marks, and your marks, are a rather bizarre pattern.” She grabbed Millie’s arm and lifted it over her head to examine the underside. Her high black ponytail brushed Millie’s wrist.  </p><p> </p><p>“Is my baby okay?” Millie asked, as Cara eagerly examined her swirling tattoos. She’s inspected the marks herself while showering; they started on the curve of her left shoulder and danced their way down, ending in a whirl of blue over the top of her left foot. They reached inwards towards her belly button and seemed to extend slightly over her lower back as well.   </p><p> </p><p>“I won’t know until the machine goes DING,” Cara said impatiently. “Did you hear the machine go ding? Hmm…” Cara’s dark blue eyes narrowed behind her goggles. </p><p> </p><p>“What?” Millie was starting to understand why Tyreen only kept so much of her tattoos uncovered; this sort of scrutiny was tiring and uncomfortable. </p><p> </p><p>“Other than the Twin Gods, I’ve never seen a Siren this close! And I’ve never seen inherited marks...your tattoos are an exact duplicate of Tyreen’s, how very funny!"</p><p> </p><p>The machine went ding, and Cara released Millie’s arm. She kicked hard against the rickety hospital bed and her rolling stool shot backwards, thumping into the lab table. “Let’s see if it's a raccoon!” Cara exclaimed, snatching the print-out from the beaten up machine. She sang under her breath as she squinted at the paper. “Is it a raccoon? Is it a typhoon? Is it the Destroyer reborn to kill us all? Who knows? Who knows, who knows? Certainly not Cara!”</p><p> </p><p>“Dr. Cara--” Millie said weakly. “Please don’t sing songs about my unborn baby being a monster.” </p><p> </p><p>“Well, don’t you worry about THAT, Mousy!” Cara said over her shoulder. “Because it’s not a monster! At least, not an obvious one!” She kicked the table and the stool shot back across the room to thunk against the bed, rattling the metal frame. She shoved the paper into Millie’s face. “You understand any of that?” </p><p> </p><p>“It’s all Eridian to me.” Millie tried anyway. It was a lot of numbers and graphs and weird icons. The machine itself was old, Millie could see that much. Before Pandora, she’d never even seen a machine that used print-out tapes; everything on Anholt had used screens for years and years.    </p><p> </p><p>“Weeeeeeeell, basically, it means ‘That is a healthy lump of cells that will someday be a human’. And, the healthy lump of cells has existed for about...hmm…” She squinted at it again. “Roughly seven weeks? Give or take?” </p><p> </p><p>“Can I hear the heartbeat?” Millie asked, and bristled when Cara barked a laugh. She still wasn't sure how she felt about being pregnant, other than terrified. But she was still curious about the tiny life she was making. </p><p> </p><p>“No heartbeat, no heartbeat!” Cara said. “It’s not a baby yet; it’s not even a fetus. It’s an embryo!” </p><p> </p><p>“You can hear the heartbeat this early,” Millie protested. Her aunt had heard her last baby’s heartbeat at six weeks along. She’d posted the recording.  </p><p> </p><p>Cara snorted. “Not with what we have here,” she insisted, and Millie gave up. </p><p> </p><p>“Seven weeks?” It felt surreal to think that she'd been pregnant for over a month and hadn't known. Some part of her felt that that wasn't fair, that it should only be as old as her knowledge of it. </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah-huh.” Cara confirmed, as the second machine went DING. This was the one that had been examining Millie’s blood. “You miss a period?” </p><p> </p><p>“No, I don’t think I did.” Millie said slowly, trying to remember. </p><p> </p><p>“Eh. You mighta had some random bleeding and thought it was a light one.” Cara finished reading this print-out as well. “Indeed, indeed, it is an embryo! Of the human sort too! The Mousy Queen will not birth an indestructible tetrabear and end our lives!” Cara sang, and began shoving the long print-outs into a folder that had MOUSY scrawled on it.  </p><p> </p><p>“Did we think that was a possibility?” Millie asked flatly. </p><p> </p><p>“Did you think it WASN’T a possibility?” She looked up at Millie and grinned. “We’re not flying blind here, but we are totally sans map!” </p><p> </p><p>“Is Siren physiology not studied?” Millie asked, watching Cara begin scribbling on a bent and dirty pad of paper. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh it is, it is! Just, not by me!” Cara said cheerily. She spun around and leaned out with the pad. “Vitamin regimen and water and caloric intake, doctor’s orders!” </p><p> </p><p>Millie leaned out of bed and reached, grabbing the pad from Cara. “Where am I going to get vitamins?” She asked skeptically. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh, you just tell the cult, they’ll get it.” </p><p> </p><p>“How will THEY get it?” </p><p> </p><p>“Same way they get anything, Mousy!" She said. "They find it, they steal it, they barter for it, or they buy it! We're a resourceful bunch, the COV. Don't doubt!" </p><p>-</p><p>Millie was trying not to be pissed with Vido. He'd done as she'd asked; they weren't in the Throne Room. Instead, they were in the courtyard that held Troy's eridium cache. There didn't seem to be much point in arguing about it. It was likely there wasn't another option right now. Still, this atmosphere was not more likely to keep her calm. </p><p> </p><p>Once again, Millie found herself seated in the midst of 15 warlords. She was less alone now; Vido sat on her right side, turned so he was facing the others more than her. That might have been more of a show of power than one of support, but it eased her nerves anyway. </p><p> </p><p>"We have a problem," Reeves said almost at once. </p><p> </p><p>"Which is?" Millie asked. The open air kept the weight of their life force from overwhelming her, but she felt twitchy all the same. </p><p> </p><p>"The Grease Monkeys want Carnivora back." </p><p> </p><p>Millie blinked at him a few times. "Joey Sparker's clan?" She hadn't even realized they were one of the ones leaving. For the first time, she actually took a moment to try to assess who was at the table. Reeves, Aggie, Bone Carver, and Vido meant that Star Biters, BulletTooth, Death Screamers, and Cave Spiders were staying. The clans of the other 11 warlords, she had no clue, but one of them was certainly Poison Maw. Millie didn't see the clan that had given her to the Calypsos in the first place,  a well-armed and wide-spread group called the Bloody Beasts. She didn't know what clan Clash had headed, or who at the table was his replacement; she hadn't thought to ask. </p><p> </p><p>"They say they built Carnivora for the Calypsos, not for--" Reeves didn't finish, just gestured vaguely to Millie. "They say it's theirs and they'll take it back by force if we make them." </p><p> </p><p>"Tell them to fuck off," Bone Carver growled. Whether he was addressing Reeves or Millie wasn't clear. "We're not giving up Carnivora." </p><p> </p><p>"I mean, we can't afford another conflict…" Millie said. "And they're right; I'm not Troy or Tyreen." </p><p> </p><p>Carver looked at her with visible irritation and Millie responded with raised eyebrows and silence. </p><p> </p><p>"That's not what we're here to talk about," Vido ground out. He was only looking in the general direction of the people who had spoken. In this much light, he could only see shapes and colors. "We need to figure out what we're going to do in general." He gestured around them, seeming to indicate the entire compound. "The Twin Gods built this cult to get to the Great Vault. We need a purpose, a direction. Obviously, we’re not staying the course, so what are we doing?" </p><p> </p><p>“Please, like she has any idea,” Bone Carver said. </p><p> </p><p>“Watch your mouth,” Aggie snapped, earning a few puzzled looks from the others. To Millie, she said, “Queen Mother, Vido is thinking way too far ahead. We need a direction eventually but right now, our aim should be damage control.” </p><p> </p><p>“You mean rebuilding?” Millie asked. Her walk back from the infirmary had shown her even more death and destruction. The weight of the cult’s misery made the air thick and her heart panged in response. Suffering was suffering, even when it affected the cruel. </p><p> </p><p>“Rebuilding,  and keeping the bandit clans, the psychos, and other members we still have,” Aggie said. “Our numbers are less than half of what they were under The Calypsos. If we lose any more clans or big groups we’ll become too vulnerable to outside attack.” There was a stir of chatter from the other War Lords. Aggie continued, “Some of the clans are on the fence. They’re planning on moving on but we might able to keep them--” </p><p> </p><p>“They have no reason to stay!” Vido snapped back. “Even if we focus on maintaining numbers, that’s all pointless without a long term plan! The cult will collapse and our lives will revert to what they were before the Calypsos!” </p><p> </p><p>Vido’s statement made something click for her. “They have a reason to stay,” Millie said. Everyone shifted their attention to her, even though she hadn’t raised her voice. “Things were better for them when they were working together, right?” </p><p> </p><p>"A lot less cannibalism," one War Lord said. </p><p> </p><p>"An actual house and running water," agreed another. </p><p> </p><p>"Not almost getting murdered every two days!" </p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” Aggie said. Her voice was only a little smug. “The ultimate spiritual purpose aspect can be figured out later. Right now, we make sure to keep up the creature comforts provided by a mass alliance. We combo that with some proof that we can keep the peace and use the girl for morale. That’ll buy us a few months.” </p><p> </p><p>“Alright,” Vido said calmly. “Let’s discuss the creature comforts then. In particular, <em> food </em>.” Aggie and Carver both stiffened, and the other War Lords began muttering. Vido leaned forward, resting clasped hands on the table. “We’ve lost the Eyes of the Hill, the Rainmakers, and Bomb Squad. The breadbasket of the Children of the Vault has abandoned us en mass. Where do you plan on--” </p><p> </p><p>“That’s not all of them,” Millie interrupted. Vido looked startled, but let her speak. “The Scarecrow Stalkers, where are they?” She asked, looking around. That name had been on Tyreen's lips often, and it was one of the things that had stuck for Millie. </p><p> </p><p>“On the fence,” Aggie said. “Didn’t join the council but they’re sticking around a while before their War Chief makes a decision.” </p><p> </p><p>“What do they want in order to stay?” Millie asked. </p><p> </p><p>“Not sure,” Aggie said, after a minute of thought.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, um, find out? If we keep them, we keep a quarter of the food supply, right?” </p><p> </p><p>“Keep a quarter of the bulk source, yeah.” Carver said. </p><p> </p><p>Millie addressed Vido next. “We have how many people left?” </p><p> </p><p>“2/5 of what we had under the Calyspsos, give or take.” Vido said. “Queen Mother, it's not enough. If we find a new ideology, we might win the other clans back entirely.” </p><p> </p><p>“Too much of a risk,” Aggie countered. “We waste any time, any effort on going for that and fail, we’re done completely. Calypso’s sake, Stonefang, can’t you see that?” </p><p> </p><p>Millie was pretty Vido knew he’d lost, but wasn’t going to roll over just yet. He started to open his mouth to retort, but Millie got there first. “I know how we can get more food.” </p><p> </p><p>“What?” Bone Carver asked, flatly. </p><p> </p><p>“How many slaves are on the compound right now?” </p><p> </p><p>“Are we eating the slaves?” Someone asked. </p><p> </p><p>“What? No!” Millie said, but nobody heard her. </p><p> </p><p>“I do not want to go back to hunting and cooking people! That’s the whole reason I came here!” Someone else prostate. </p><p> </p><p>“We don’t have to eat the slaves; we have a lot of corpses!” Reever suggested. </p><p> </p><p>“I don’t want to go back to cannibalism at all!” Wailed a woman Millie didn’t know. </p><p> </p><p>“No! No corpses!” Millie shouted, finally breaking through the din. “No cannibalism! No--who are you?” </p><p> </p><p>“Effie, Queen Mother, Clan Rockabillies.” </p><p> </p><p>“Hello Effie. I was <em> not </em> suggesting cannibalism. I am never suggesting cannibalism!” When she was certain everyone understood, Millie repeated her question. “How many slaves are on this compound right now?” She tried to pry her fingers off the arms of her chair, but when she did, her hands started to shake. Conscious of how closely she was being watched, Millie clamped down again. </p><p> </p><p>There was a brief pause, and Bone Carver said, “Between 400 and 500.” </p><p> </p><p>“Okay,” Millie said. She could do this. She was the Siren. She made the fucking rules. She was not going to fuck this up. “We let them <em> go </em>and then we have 500 less people to feed.” </p><p> </p><p>The table erupted in outrage and shock. “How are we supposed to get this place up and running again without a workforce?” Bone Carver thundered. </p><p> </p><p>“We let them go, we have Dahl, and Hyperion, and Atlas, and the Raiders up our ass!” Another war lord shouted, slamming a gauntleted hand on the table hard enough to make it shake. </p><p> </p><p>Millie shot to her feet, sending her chair skittering backwards. “Let me speak!” Her hands struck the table, and her marks flared to life in response. Cold dread shot through her heart, Clash’s dead face leaping unbidden into her mind’s eye. She fought the power down. The urge to leech was high and she needed to stay vigilant if she wanted to avoid another death on her head. </p><p> </p><p>They didn’t let her speak, and continued arguing until Vido snarled “Enough!” Silence fell. Voice heavy and tense, Vido said, “Queen Mother. Please, continue.” </p><p> </p><p>“First of all,” Millie said angrily. “That’s not a workforce. That’s 500 hostages being used as slaves. Second of all, the <em> cult </em>will be the workforce. We’re in no shape to be doing anything other than rebuilding! Taking a few months to focus on recovering is exactly what we should do!” </p><p> </p><p>“She has a point,” Effie said. </p><p> </p><p>Millie tried to not look shocked and plowed ahead. “Third of all, no. Dahl and Hyperion and everyone else won’t come after us. Not if we tell the slaves that the reason they’re going home is everyone involved in their abduction is <em> dead </em> and the COV is destroyed!"</p><p> </p><p>There was another pause, as Millie and the Council stared each other down. Bone Carver was the first to speak. “That...might work,” He admitted grudgingly. </p><p> </p><p>That far was more jarring than Effie agreeing with her. Millie glanced around the table. The others were nodding slowly. Well. No point in stopping now. “I know that’s not enough food,” she continued carefully. “But, we'll have that, the defenses of the compound, the infirmary--” </p><p> </p><p>“And a Siren,” Vido added. </p><p> </p><p>“And over a dozen ally clans and hundreds of ally psychos.” Millie finished. “That’s what we can offer. Is that going to be enough?” </p><p> </p><p>“It’s possible,” Carver conceded. </p><p> </p><p>“I think it is,” Aggie said. </p><p> </p><p>“...Yes. I think it really might be.” Vido said.  </p><p> </p><p>Millie nodded, and groped behind her for her chair. Vido stood, and pulled it back for her. “Thank you.” Once again seated, Millie looked from face to face. “Okay, I don’t know who most of you are. We are going to go around, and fix that. I want your name and clans, and what your role under the Twins was. I need to know.” She glanced at Carver. “Um. And what your clan <em> needs </em> , right now.” She almost added <em> Okay </em>? But she didn’t want to seem like she was asking; she needed to be telling. If Aggie, Carver, and Vido exchanged looks during the rest of the meeting, she didn’t notice. </p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Someone was assigned to talk to the Scarecrow Stalkers, and the rough outline of a plan for sending the slaves home had been made. They weren’t to keep working; Millie and a War Lord named Dustin had a screaming march about it. That had ended when Aggie pulled a gun and threatened to kneecap him if he didn’t <em> shut it </em>. The issue with the Grease Monkey’s wasn’t resolved, but Millie was going to speak to their Chief in the morning. Millie stayed at the table, watching the Council file out. She was trembling and desperately watched to find something to leech. But she’d made it through another ring of fire alive. Idly, she remembered she had to go check on Gertrude, and get a report on Bust Up. </p><p> </p><p>Aggie, Vido, and Bone Carver were standing at the mouth of the courtyard, talking. Millie squinted at them, trying to make out what they were saying. Carver’s deep olive skin and Aggie’s rich brown made Vido look even more ghostly pale. Millie’s mind wandered. When she wasn’t doing something, wasn’t actively working, the hurt came back. The tightness in her chest and the burning of tears in her eyes. Her heavy heart counted up every time she’d heard the Twins’ names or seen an image of their faces or had otherwise been reminded of them, and cashed in every chip at once. The grief came down onto her shoulders like a weight.  </p><p> </p><p>A shadow loomed over the table, and Millie looked up, jerking out of her thoughts. A bandit was standing over her, holding a battered aluminum tray. On instinct, Millie flinched and shrank back. “Oh, hello!” She managed, eyeing him. There was a bag on his back. It was squirming.   </p><p> </p><p>“Dr. Cara sent me,” he said hoarsely, and set the tray down. A few sandwiches, a bottle of water, and a small pile of vitamins. His hands were clean, Millie noted with some surprise. The lower half of his right leg was a clunky cybernetic, and she surprised its creaky metal hadn’t revealed his presence sooner.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, thank you.” She reached for the food, but froze as he shrugged off his backpack and dropped it to the ground. He bent over and unzipped it. He had short, wispy hair that was the same brilliant orange as Aggie’s. Millie’s mouth went dry as he handed her what was inside his bag; a large, struggling ratch. </p><p> </p><p>“To leech,” he clarified, as Millie stared at it. “Dr. Cara said you needed it.” </p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” Millie said. “Yes I did!” Unable to resist anymore, she snatched it from his hands. The moment its exoskeleton touched her palms, it screamed in pain. Millie shuddered as she leeched it, clutching it tight until it fell silent and exploded into dust. Sighing in relief, Millie looked up, and saw that the man was already slinking away. She felt embarrassed; she couldn’t scream every time one of them approached her. Mille started eating, looking back up at the others across the courtyard.  </p><p> </p><p>They had turned, and now walked back to the table, retaking their seats. “So,” Vido began, ignoring the glittering dust now coating Millie’s shirt. Then again, he might not be able to see it “You seem to have accepted your new role. That was clever, Millicent. You may have saved the COV.” </p><p> </p><p>Millie snorted. “I doubt that, but thank you.” She felt oddly grateful for their return. She wouldn’t be alone with her sorrow for a few minutes. </p><p> </p><p>“Why?” Carver asked. He watched Millie struggle with the vitamin bottle before snorting and taking it from her. </p><p> </p><p>“Excuse me?” Millie was distracted from his question by the fact that he couldn't get the bottle open either. The cap was on tight and his fingers were too big.</p><p> </p><p>“Why did you help?” Carver was staring at her with an intensity that made her scalp prickle. He barely seemed to notice when Aggie plucked the vitamin bottle from his grasp. </p><p> </p><p>“To free the slaves,” She said slowly. After a moment of thought and another gulp of water, Millie added, “And, if the COV fall entirely, you have fewer reasons to keep me alive.”  </p><p> </p><p>“We wouldn’t kill you,” Aggie said. “We’d sell you.” Carver barked a laugh and Vido gave them both a burning look. When Aggie held the bottle out to him, he took the bottle from her almost absently. He got it open in one twist and passed it to Millie. </p><p> </p><p>“What do you want with me?” Millie asked. “Right this second, I mean?” The sun was starting to set in the west, staining the courtyard orange and making the shadows twist. Animals howled in the distant hills as she tapped out three pale yellow tablets. </p><p> </p><p>Aggie leaned forward. “What we want, is to be straight with you.” </p><p> </p><p>“Millicent, we founded this council,” Vido said, gesturing around the table. “We kept the cult together; hell, we’re the reason nobody cut and ran after Troy died.” </p><p> </p><p>Troy’s name was a barb of ice in Millie's heart and her eyes stung, but she resisted showing her feelings. “This Council was billed as some ‘equal cooperation’ deal. But the three of us run the show,” Carver said. “<em> We </em>decided to use you as the rally point.” </p><p> </p><p>“You’re welcome for us saving your life,” Aggie said with a smirk. “Three clan chiefs panicked and voted to kill you.”  </p><p> </p><p>Millie scowled at her. “I’d thank you if you hadn’t tried to use me as a pawn…What is your point?” She thought she knew; she refused to assume. </p><p> </p><p>“We think you can do this...if we help you. That we can, all together, get the cult through these next nine months.” </p><p> </p><p>“The Cult expects a Siren, they want a Siren,” Aggie said. “But they’ll accept the God-King’s baby if we give them time and good enough reasons. Nine months Sounds like enough time to me. ” </p><p> </p><p>They pointedly hadn't said what happened after nine months.“But, you still want my baby?” Her baby. Not Troy’s. She’d already made up her mind about that.  </p><p> </p><p>“We’re not going to let you play Queen forever, girl.” Carver sneered. “Siren or not, you’re still soft and young and foolish.” With every insulting adjective, he tapped the table for emphasis.</p><p> </p><p>“I am not a fool,” Millie said coldly, staring at him. Fools couldn't learn the way she'd learned. Fools couldn't survive what she'd survived. </p><p> </p><p>Carver coughed, looking uncomfortable and Millie realized her marks were glowing. She didn’t quiet them, but she broke eye contact with Bone Carver. </p><p> </p><p>“To put it bluntly,” Vido said softly. “It’s the baby, or your life. You have to give us one.” </p><p> </p><p>Millie knew they were serious. The shadows were longer now, covering the table. Millie looked at her hands, and at the vitamin bottle she was holding. It was labelled “FOR BABY”. The compound around her seemed to tighten like a noose. The stench of fear and pain still filled the air. Millie was not a hateful person by nature. As much as she despised Pandora and the Children of the Vault, she knew she preferred solving problems over being kept a prisoner in her quarters. If she cooperated, they'd work with her. Give her power now and freedom later. They thought she could rise to the occasion, and Millie agreed with them. She could practice this like she’d practiced averting her eyes, like she’d practiced entertaining Troy, like she’d practiced appeasing Tyreen.  </p><p> </p><p>A memory was bouncing around her head. Troy quizzing Tyreen on Clan names, rackets, and customs before a meet and greet. Tyreen watching videos of herself, Troy pausing them sometimes to indicate word choice or posture or demeanor and critique it. Troy editing and editing and editing for hours, choosing the shots and sound bites with the most <em> oomph </em>. Before that, Dahl propaganda had been the soundtrack of her life. Millie had paid attention to all of it.</p><p> </p><p>Millie took a slow breath. She could shove her feelings aside and cooperate; she'd practiced that more than anything. Yes, she could make one more sacrifice. Do one more thing she didn’t want to do, if it meant she was going home. “I’ll give you the baby,” she agreed. </p><p> </p><p>“Attagirl,” Aggie said. </p><p> </p><p>“You CAN see reason, I’ll be damned,” Carver sounded pleased. </p><p> </p><p>Vido touched her wrist briefly, and said under his breath, “I’m sorry, Millicent. You're making the right choice.”  </p><p> </p><p>Somewhere, in orbit high above Pandora, Ava hit play on the first of Troy's ECHOlogs. <em> Millie #1. </em></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. God's Don't Pace</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>JOEY #2 </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>*clattering, banging, screeching metal, distant sounds of a workshop* </span>
</p><p>
  <span>*a door bangs shut and the sounds quiet* </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Joey: Permission to question the God-King? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Troy: Denied. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Joey: COME ON. It’s important! It’s life and death! </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Troy: Shit, fine! What? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Joey: Wear a shirt you look like a moron. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Troy: Oh fuck you Joey. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Joey: Aw, no thanks, I’m a mechanic...not a slut. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Troy: Please, you are so beneath me. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Joey: I’m not beneath you, nor do I want to be, we just established this. All those video games you play finally rot your teeny tiny brain? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Troy: JOEY why the fuck did you say you needed to see me? Was it JUST to bust my balls? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Joey: Nah, I actually, I uh...okay so don’t be mad. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Troy: JOEY?! </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Joey: Chill, chill, majesty, all I did was, uh...I scanned your spinal rig. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Troy: *very quietly* I told you not to do that! </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Joey: AND I CAN SEE WHY. That thing is a travesty, we can’t leave those implants in your back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Troy: I do not want that! </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Joey: Why not? It hurts you, I can see that, stop trying to act tough and-- </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Troy: </span>
  <em>
    <span>I DON’T WANT TO GET CUT OPEN AGAIN! </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Joey:...Oh. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Troy: Not after...look I--no. Okay? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Joey: Please. Please let me do this. I know how much pain you’re in, please let me help you. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Troy: You can...you can fix it? Even though my spine is-- </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Joey: No, yeah, I can, I can! Like, this rig you have now looks Frankensteined, I have an intact CyberLife. Your spinal implants need to be swapped out; they were not installed right but it should be an easy fix. Then you get the new rig, maybe a better arm, and well, you won’t be like, “pain-free”--</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Troy: *laughs harshly* Pain-free. I’d settle for “barely better”. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Joey: I think I can do a lot more than barely. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The day was over already. Millie had slept most of it away, and the compound was sinking into night as she picked her way back to the Anholtan barracks. She needed to check on Trudy. She’d done okay today, but she wasn’t sure she could keep faking it for nine months. She wanted her mother. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Taking a slow, shuddering breath, Millie wrapped her arms around herself. She tried to keep thoughts of her family and Anholt to a minimum. It hurt, and it often felt pointless. Until a couple of days ago, she and the other girls had doubted they were ever going home. Like the rest of the cult, the slaves obviously had no idea that Pandora was going to be destroyed. Millie had, quietly, secretly, assumed that she’d be brought along wherever Troy and Tyreen went afterwards. She knew they’d hated Pandora, and often talked about how excited they were to leave. In her mind, there was obviously a list of people who they’d bring with them. In her mind, she’d been on it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Obviously, she was wrong. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The door to the barracks was closed tight, and under the crack, she could see the artificial orange glow of the bare bulbs. The dingy buildings didn’t have windows, but Millie could feel her friends inside, and hear the murmur of their voices. The knob turned in her hand, but the door didn’t open. Millie frowned, and pushed a bit harder. It was stopped, something braced against the handle on the other side. “What,” she muttered, and knocked hard. “Claudia!” She called. The only other buildings nearby were the barracks for other slaves; Millie wasn’t sure where most of them were from. Those were also shut tight. “Claudia?” She repeated, knocking again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a brief shuffling inside, and then the door cracked open. Tamara’s dark blue eye peered out anxiously. “Millicent?” She whispered. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Yes, obviously. Tamara, let me in, I want to see Claudia and Trudy</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” Tamara bit her lip, nodded, and stepped back to open the door further. Millie stepped inside, anxiety spiking. She could taste the worry of her friends on the air.   </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Most of the girls were in their beds, talking in low, tense voices. Claudia was sitting on the edge of Bianca’s cot, leaning over her. Trudy was in her own bed, curled up tight, and her frightened eyes met Millie’s. “Claudia?” Millie asked softly, approaching the cot. Claudia looked up, her eyes red and her rough hands curling into the blanket. “What--” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bianca was lying in her bed, her face black and blue. Her shirt was badly torn and stained in dried blood, which had likely come from her visibly broken nose and split lips. Millie gasped and stepped back, hands going to her mouth. “I--” Her head snapped back towards Gertrude. “Bust Up.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Who else would it be?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Claudia said, voice heavy with exhaustion. She stroked Bianca’s straight black hair. Millie could see now that she was asleep; with every breath she whimpered slightly, the pain still finding her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>She did what you said, and took me to the kitchens!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Gertrude said. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Afterwards, we were all here, and but Bianca had to leave</span>
  </em>
  <span>--” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>She was seeing that girl who works for Poison Maw!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Heidi, ever the tattletale, piped up.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>They attacked her on her way back, Bust Up and two others from her clan</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Claudia continued. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Then they just, LEFT HER THERE, in the dust, like an animal or, or trash</span>
  </em>
  <span>--” She squeezed her eyes shut, and Millie sat beside her on the bed, leaning against her. The side of Claudia’s head pressed against Millie’s. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Who knows how long she’d have been out there if those young men from Eden-6 hadn’t brought her back</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Claudia finished. Both of her hands moved to hold one of Bianca’s.   </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why did you do that?” Gertrude asked, and Millie looked back at her, heart going cold in her chest. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Trudy, don’t--” Claudia said tiredly, but Gertrude kept talking, her eyes growing wet. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>You made Bust Up angry, and she took it out on Bi</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>This is not Millie’s fault</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Claudia protested, but Millie wasn’t so sure about that. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She stared down at Bianca’s battered form, and replayed her encounter with Bust Up. Remembering how her small, work-worn hand had looked clutching Bust Up’s throat. Remembering how hard it had been to not swallow her life whole.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>I did this. I taunted her, baited her, and then just left. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Millie wasn’t sure if she regretted how she’d acted or if she regretted sparing the bandit’s life; the end result was the same.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She stood, and spoke into the silence of the room. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m going to take care of this</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bianca refused the infirmary, but relented to being seen by Cara. Millie was back in the meeting room, waiting on Bust Up and her chief. She felt tense and jittery all over. Straightening all of the chairs and gathering the scattered trash had kept her hands busy for a minute or two. Now all she could think to do was pace. She’d never bluffed before, let alone had one called like this. Bianca’s bloodied shirt and Clash’s glittering husk warred for space in her mind. She’d promised to kill Bust Up, and she could do it easily. The ratch from dinner seemed to have been digested or worn off; she was starving again and worried she might lunge at Bust Up the moment she came into view. Capable was one thing. Willing was another. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a banging at the door, and Ryan opened it to stick his head inside. “Queen Mother, Chief Effie is here.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Millie just nodded and gestured for them to come in. In came Effie, Bust Up, and two women Millie presumed to be her sidekicks. The Rockabilly style was in full force; heavy make-up, dark jeans, and polka dot tops with plunging necklines. Millie grabbed the back of the nearest chair, knuckles going white as she met Bust Up’s gaze. Bust Up glared back at her as she yanked out a chair and dropped into it. The two women Millie didn’t know followed suit, but Effie remained standing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Queen Mother,” Effie said. Her face was grim and tired. “Queen Mother, I chewed her out good, I swear. I’ll swap her out, keep her away from--”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No,” Millie said, anxiety turning her voice sharp. She felt very alone with four pairs of eyes on her. “No, that’s, that’s not enough, Effie. I warned her, and she disobeyed me. She could have</span>
  <em>
    <span> killed</span>
  </em>
  <span> Bianca!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shouldn’t have been in that part of the camp,” Bust Up said with a smirk and a shrug. Effie smacked the back of her head without even looking. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Speak again!” Millie said, hating the hysteria that colored her words. “Go on, speak again!” The words were hardly a threat, and it was more likely the slap from her chief that quieted her, but she fell silent. Millie closed her eyes briefly, fingers drumming against the cheap wood of the chairback. “And that’s not even covering these too!” She gestured, a little wildly, to the other two bandits. “Do either of you have anything to say for yourselves?!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>One of the girls, a short, squat figure with a head full of messy finger waves, glanced up from the floor. In a mumble, she said, “Bust Up told us that the girl was lippy, a trouble-maker. We didn’t know where she was from or who she was with.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh so you often hunt slaves for fun?” Millie demanded, and the woman shrank back. Bust Up threw her a look of disgust. “Effie, yelling at them is not going to suffice!” Millie felt like Gertrude’s reproachful eyes were still on her.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, what do you want? An apology?” Bust Up sneered. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Effie rounded on her. “An apology? No, Blair, she wants your HEAD on a fucking PIKE outside the cathedral!” Effie stepped closer, and despite being no more than five foot three, she suddenly seemed to dwarf Bust Up. “You’re not getting this? You STILL don’t understand?” She pointed at Millie with a shaking hand. “None of us expected this! Nobody is happy about this shit! And this crap you’re pulling is not going to undo it!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bust Up tried to curl her lip, but as her eyes searched the room and found no one on her side, the look faded. Effie let out a long, shaky breath, and then turned to Millie. “Queen Mother,” she said softly. “Please. I know she--my clan isn’t big, and--” She looked at Bust Up, whose face was going white. The other women weren’t looking much better. Millie was concerned that the blonde who’d been silent this entire time was going to be sick. “These two, she lied to them! They don’t--The Twins never cared if--” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They can go,” Millie said, and finally took her hands from the back of the chair. She wasn’t sure she could stomach leeching Bust Up, let alone two more. The short girl burst into tears and the blonde went limp with obvious relief. “They can--I want them punished, Effie. Please make it clear to your people that this is not how off-world prisoners are to be treated.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Effie had seized both girls by their upper arms and was hauling them out of their chairs. “Yes, Queen Mother, they will live their lives in fear of your wrath, I swear on the Calypsos.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Millie hated that she was still flinching at the sounds of their names. She wondered if they stung in the clan chiefs’ mouths. She watched Effie hustle the women outside, and looked back at Bust Up. Bust Up wasn’t meeting her eyes, instead staring at her clasped hands resting on the scarred tabletop. Bruises had bloomed over her fingers, and two of her knuckles were split. Millie set her jaw, and yanked out her own chair as Effie returned to the table. She was tired of standing, and if she didn’t sit, she’d start pacing again. Tyreen had never paced, not in front of others. Millie had once listened to Troy telling her off for it, saying it made her look nervous. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you going to kill me?” Bust Up asked and Millie snapped back to the present. Bust Up’s voice was odd. Small and tight, and the growl was gone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I told you I would,” Millie said. The departure of the other bandits had easied the urge to leech, but every breath reminded her that there were two living souls locked in this room with her. “I told you I would, and you did this anyway.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bust Up swallowed hard and something inside Millie bent and threatened to break. “I thought you were…” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What? Lying?” Silence from both of them. “If someone says they’re going to kill you, you should probably hedge your bets and believe them.” She didn’t want to do this. She didn’t want to turn another living, breathing thing to dust in this room. But then there was Gertrude’s angry stare, and Bianca’s battered face, and Claudia’s slumped shoulders. There was the memory of the Dust Dancers, and Stu the Mechanic, and the dozens of other cultists who’d failed or defied the twins and paid for it with their lives. She’d promised justice for Bianca, and she was terrified that sparing Bust Up would look like weakness. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She won’t do it again,” Effie said weakly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s not the point. I can’t…” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to kill me!” Bust Up blurted out. She was looking frantically between Millie and Effie. “You don’t need to </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually</span>
  </em>
  <span> fucking kill me! You can, you can just banish me!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Banish?” Millie repeated. That hadn’t crossed her mind. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Throw me into the desert to die! I mean, what’s the real difference, right?” She sat up straighter. “I’m, I’m gone, right? I’m away from all your little heretic friends, and you don’t look like a complete bitch in front of everyone!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shut your mouth, dumbass,” Effie snapped. To Millie, she said, “Is that an option?” She looked almost hopeful.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She’ll die out there. She’ll die out there and she’ll never hurt anyone again. She’ll die out there, and I won’t have to watch at all. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“She leaves tonight,” Millie said, and Bust Up went limp with relief. “She takes NOTHING with her, she never returns, or I will kill her.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Queen Mother, thank you,” Effie breathed, letting her face sink into her hands. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Effie won’t have to watch either. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Millie looked back to Bust Up and forced her face into a hard mask. She wished the bandit looked less happy, but she was too relieved to avoid committing murder. “This is more than you deserve,” she said, as harshly as she could manage. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, trust me, Queen Mother, I bask in the glorious light of your infinite mercy!” Bust Up said cheerfully, and Millie wanted to break her jaw. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Get the hell out of my compound,” Millie snarled instead. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bust Up, clearly afraid Millie was going to change her mind, bolted to her feet. Her chair toppled to the floor with a clatter as she scrambled towards the door. “Guards!” Millie called. The door flew open, and Bust Up jumped back as Trigger and Ryan filled the doorway. “Take her out to the desert, I do not care where you dump her.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...Do you want us to kill her first or like, when we get there?” Trigger asked. Ryan was already removing a pistol from his waistband. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No! No killing, banishment.” Millie corrected, and Ryan sadly put his gun away. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uh. Okay.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Also, boys, if it’s not too much trouble, I am starving.” Her head was starting to throb, and she wasn’t happy about how much she apparently had to leech every day. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Want us to bring that upstairs, Queen Mother?” Ryan asked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, thank you.” When they both stood, silent and expectant, Millie swallowed an aggravated sigh. “You can go now. Take her, I never want to see her awful face again.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Queen Mother,” they both chorused, and then Ryan seized Bust Up by the front of her shirt and pulled her out the door. She looked back over her shoulder, and Effie turned to watch her go. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Effie--” Bust Up started to say, bravado rapidly fading, but the door slammed, cutting her off. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Millie stared at the back of Effie’s head. For the first time in a while, she thought of her sister. Nadine had worn finger waves like that for her sixteenth birthday, and Millie could still remember the fruity smell of the gel. She’d been ten, and stood on Saturday’s shoes to dance. The picture might still be on their father’s desk. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Effie spoke. “I held that stupid brat’s hand while she watched her mother die.” Millie gaped at her, and when Effie slowly turned to face her again, her eyes were wet. There was another stretch of silence, and Millie didn’t try to find words. The pause stretched until Effie blinked, and then swiped at her eyes. “Can I go?” She asked thickly. “If I don’t do something helpful or violent in the next ten minutes I’m going to start crying and that’s just really embarrassing.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Millie wasn’t sure what to do with her face. Or her hands. She wasn’t sure what to do, period. “Yes, Effie, of course,” she said finally.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>VIDO #1 </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vido: Are you completely sure about this? It is not too late to stop. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tyreen: Fuck yeah I’m sure. Killing a giant scorpion and eating its heart sounds dope as fuck. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vido: You sound confident. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tyreen: I’m a God, Vee. This shit doesn’t scare me. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vido: May I say something overly intimate and highly embarrassing for both of us? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tyreen: Ew! No! </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vido: *laughing* Tyreen--</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tyreen: LALALA I am NOT listening, Stonefang! I’m not listening to you be a fucking wuss! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vido: I’m proud-- </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tyreen: Don’t fucking do this to me right before I do this loony ritual! </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vido: I am very proud of you, Tyreen.</span>
  
</p><p> </p><p><span>Tyreen:</span> <span>Lame! Gross! I hate you! </span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vido: It’s okay if you’re worried. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tyreen: Ha! Please, like I’m ever worried...Just, uh, so we’re clear. What happens if I fail initiation? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vido: You try again in a year. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tyreen: Wait, really, that’s it? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vido: That’s it...except you’ll have to fight your way out of the caves. While the rest of the clan tries to kill you. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tyreen: Seriously? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vido: Maybe. You’ll find out if you fail. Which I highly doubt you will. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tyreen: Heh. Thanks Vee. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. But A Dream</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Trigger warnings for suicide in this one.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> JOEY #3  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> JOEY: You know, being a Siren becomes a lot less impressive when you have no powers.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> TROY: Yeah, but there’s only one of me.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> JOEY: You’re a collectible!  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> TROY: Collectible? I’m a rare and irreplaceable treasure!  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> JOEY: Behollllld, the onlllly male Siren in the Univerrrrrse! What does he DO, you ask? Well. He goes into critical condition from the flu and a stiff breeze dislocates his joints! So that’s cool!  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> TROY: Did you forget I’m also a Foretold?  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> JOEY: Ah, yes, that’d be very, very impressive...if I wasn’t one of those too, ya dink!  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>  TROY: Wait, what?  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> JOEY: *laughing* You stand in the presence of the Iron Spark. Born amidst violet thunderclaps, she will forge the Purple Dust into fuel. From her greatness the Clan will know Plenty and Peace.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> TROY:...You cracked the Eridium Fuel. For the vehicles.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> JOEY: I mean, yeah. Yeah, I did.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> TROY: *long pause* Heh. Whatever. I’m still cooler than you.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> JOEY: Saying that makes you even less cool.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> TROY: *sighing dramatically* I hate you Joey.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> JOEY: I would die for you without hesitation, Troy. And force you to live knowing you were saved by a girl.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Millie stared at the sealed plastic containers that her dinner had been delivered in. One was real food, and the other was squealing and squirming. Her head was spinning, the to-do list for tomorrow writing and rewriting itself. “Talk to Vido, Aggie, and Carver--” She grimaced at the Death Screamer’s name. She liked Vido just fine and Aggie was tolerable; Carver she doubted she’d ever be able to stand. “About what I did about Effie...talk to Chiefs about preventing further violence against the slaves...visit with Grease Monkeys...update on Scarecrow Stalkers…” She rubbed her temples, moaning to herself, and slouched in her chair.  </p><p> </p><p>The Calypso’s suite was so quiet at night. Troy’s computer had been unplugged, silencing it’s constant whirr and whine. Tyreen used to have the TV playing constantly; she loved it. Troy had preferred video games, and they had both loved music. Millie’s eyes flicked up to the twin’s stereo, sitting against the far wall to the left of the TV. It was massive, cobbled together from at least five different models. A gift from the Terrorbytes, with a boosted EchoNet hook-up to pick up music from other planets. </p><p> </p><p>There had been days, good days, when they’d crank it all the way up, until the walls shook and Millie’s teeth would ring. One of those times, she was scrubbing at the dishes in the sink, and Troy had walked up behind her and swept her off her feet. He spun her across the floor while she laugh-screamed and wriggled in his grip. “Let me down I have to work!” </p><p> </p><p>“Troy, you’re gonna drop her and break her neck!” Tyreen shouted from the coach. </p><p>  </p><p>“I’m not gonna drop her!” Troy said, right before he dropped her. </p><p> </p><p>Millie’s eyes searched the floor by the table and found the spot where she’d slipped out of Troy’s arms. She’d landed on her elbow with a startled yelp, ripping it open, and warm blood had been trickling down towards her wrist. She remembered Tyreen vaulting over the back of the coach, and Troy dropping down beside her with wide eyes.  Troy was examining the wound and repeating apologies while Tyreen snapped “I told you to put her down!” </p><p> </p><p>Guilt and concern. A kiss on the temple and a carefully wrapped bandage. At the time, she'd caught herself feeling glad for the accident. It was worth it to have the Twins hovering over her like that. In the present, Millie swiped at her eyes and bitterly wondered where all that love and tenderness was when they left her on Pandora to die. Or before that, when Bust Up was still beating her despite being warned to stop. Or any time she said “No”. </p><p> </p><p>Refusing to cry again, Millie ripped off the lid of the squirming, chirping pan. Inside were dozens of Pandoran cockroaches, each bigger than her thumb. There was a note taped to the underside of the lid: CAUT THEES IN OR CRALLSPACE- P.M. </p><p> </p><p>Millie plunged her hand into the pool of insects. They died with a choir of screams and soon all that was left was purple-black sand. She was almost sad when it was over; nothing hurt when she was leeching, not even her broken heart. Body relaxed and head no longer throbbing, Millie switched to the solid food, trying not to look at the stereo until she finished. </p><p> </p><p>There had been something uniquely intoxicating about the Twins' attention. Millie had never thought they were gods, but she'd fallen for them, hook line and sinker. For a while, she thought she'd won the game, and that they loved her back. She'd been a stupid girl to think they'd had eyes for anyone but each other. </p><p>
  <em> - </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Troy was asleep, dead asleep, on the bed. Millie was in his bathroom, combing tangles out of her hair. She knew the wide toothed comb in the cabinet was for her. Troy liked to be able to run his fingers through her curls. She wondered how he knew how to take care of curly hair; his and his sister’s were straight.   </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> There was a tangle that wasn’t coming out. She’d been combing it for what felt like hours, staring dully into her own reflection. The tangle wasn’t coming out.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Then there was a sound. Low and whining and clawing at her perception. Millie blinked, and she was walking into Tyreen’s bedroom. Tyreen was curled up in a miserable looking lump on her bed, clutching a pillow to her face, wailing. Millie knew this memory. She knew what happened next.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Tyreen?” Millie was at the bedside, reaching for Tyreen’s shoulder. The crescent moon shone down through Tyreen’s skylight, lighting up the blue swirls that danced over her arm. “Tyreen?”  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> She was on her back, head splitting from its impact against the rough wooden floor, heart hammering wildly in her chest. Tyreen was hunched over her, squeezing her throat, eyes burning with a bright madness. Her hot tears hit Millie’s face like raindrops, and Millie flinched each time. “I’m sorry!” Millie gasped. “I am sorry, please, your majesty, my Queen, please!--”  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Do you think you’re fucking special?” Tyreen hissed. “Do you fucking think you’re fucking special, Princess?”  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “No!” Millie sobbed. “No, of course not--”  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Tyreen’s hand tightened and her face twisted. “WHY NOT?” She lifted Millie by the neck and slammed her down again, harder, and Millie saw stars. “Do you think we let ANYBODY in here? You think I let ANYBODY fuck my brother? When I wanna eat somebody, I fucking eat them! I wanna hurt somebody, I fucking hurt them! Me and Troy own every last parasite on this dumpster fire planet, and YEAH, Millie, you have to be at least kind of fucking SPECIAL to still be ALIVE RIGHT NOW!”  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Millie blinked again and Tyreen was back on her bed, knees drawn up to her chest, arms hugging her legs as she hung her head. Millie was scrambling towards the living room, only half-rising from the floor, but freezing when Tyreen spoke again. “I didn’t want to kill Hana. I didn’t want to. I didn’t have a choice.”      </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Millie blinked and she was in the kitchen. The knife drawer was open, and she was staring inside. She was in the kitchen, staring into the knife drawer, and she was in Tyreen’s room, and Tyreen was calling her “meek” and mocking her for being raped. She was in the kitchen, and she was in Tyreen’s room, and she was in Troy’s bed trying not to cry, and she was staring into the knife drawer.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Meek. Tyreen called her meek. Said she wasn’t a threat to her safety or to Troy’s. Millie picked up one she’d sharpened yesterday. She was getting good at sharpening.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Tyreen was no longer crying. She was asleep now. Millie stood over her for a few minutes, fiddling with the knife. And then she stabbed down, sinking the blade into Tyreen’s neck. Tyreen’s eyes flew open and she screamed.Or tried to. But all that came out was a thin, wet rattle. Her terrified eyes met Millie’s, and Millie wrenched the knife back. She stabbed down again, and again, and again, catching Tyreen in the chest and shoulder and stomach. The blood was almost as hot as Tyreen’s tears and it shone a bioluminescent blue as it poured over the bedsheets and Millie’s hand.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Tyreen’s Siren marks crawled their way over Millie’s arm as she shuffled out of the bedroom and across to Troy’s door. They started at her scarred left elbow and bloomed outward, spreading like seeping blood. The door swung open and she was inside and she could hear Troy’s softly beating heart. “Troy,” she said. “Troy, wake up. I have to show you something.”  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Troy rolled over. “Millie?” He said blearily.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Millie crossed to him to a few quick strides. He was still blinking sleep from his eyes when Millie plunged the knife into his stomach, punching through the skin just below the join of his ribs. Staring into his wide eyes, Millie pulled down, hard. She cut him from sternum to waist, the knife ripping through him with disgusting ease. His blood was the same radioactive red as his necklace, spraying and bubbling from his open stomach as he gaped at her in horror. Tyreen’s eyes had been filled with fear and hatred; Troy’s seemed more confused and heartbroken. Millie stepped back and watched, silently, as he groped at his wound and tried to call for his sister. All he accomplished was spitting up toxic-looking blood and filling the room with helpless choking sounds.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> It took him 5 minutes to die. When he finally did, Millie left the room.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> She dragged Tyreen's limp and cooling corpse across the darkened apartment’s floor and heaved it onto the mattress beside Troy. Tyreen was heavier than she looked. Three years ago Millie never would have managed it. Now it was barely hard.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Millie squirmed into the narrow gap between them, barely feeling the sticky mattress or sodden sheets. Their weight was a comfort, a solid and grounding pressure surrounding her as she lifted one arm to the ceiling and pressed the knife to the biggest vein she could see.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> It felt harder to gouge her own wrists than it had been to gut Troy; but she forced the knife tip in deeper and deeper until it hit bone, then tore downwards towards her elbow. Breath coming fast and jagged, she repeated the process on the next arm. Her blood was yellow, yellow as marigolds and rich mustard, and mixed with the growing stains on the sheets.   </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Millie dropped her shredded arms and closed her eyes, shifting to press closer into Troy’s side. Tyreen’s head had come to rest on her shoulder, and Millie left it there. She bled out between the Twins and hoped her soul was finally ready to ascend and rejoin Sophia in the True Reality. If she couldn’t, maybe she’d go where Tyreen and Troy went. That wouldn’t be so bad.   </em>
</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p>“You should have consulted us,” Vido said for the fifth or sixth time. </p><p> </p><p>Millie chose to ignore him this time, and continued staring silently out the car window. They were driving to the Grease Monkey clan grounds to discuss the Carnivora dispute. Vido, Aggie, and Bone Carver were supposed to be prepping her for the conversation. Instead, they were berating her about Bust Up. </p><p> </p><p>“You actually had a semi-decent idea yesterday. Did the stress break your brain? Is that why you’re dumb now?” Carver demanded. He’d pulled on his bandit mask as they were leaving, covering his scarred face and metal eye patch. There was only one eye lens, and where the other should have been, there was a carefully stitched Death Screamers emblem. A blood red skull with a gaping maw. Up close, it reminded her a bit of the design on Troy’s coat. </p><p> </p><p>Millie sighed. “I knew you were going to act like this," she muttered, looking away again. Every little thing was reminding her of Troy and Tyreen, and the awful dream she’d had last night. She awoken on the couch, gasping, still feeling their drying blood on her skin. She sobbed although her shower in Tyreen's room, asking the water and steam what was happening to her.</p><p> </p><p>“Then why did you tell us?” Aggie asked. She had one of her sniper rifles across her lap. Millie knew little about guns, but this one bore a Hyperion logo, so she knew it was likely garbage. “If you can’t stomach killing, get good at lying about it.” </p><p> </p><p>“I preferred dealing with less outrage now than worse outrage later.” She should have insisted on sitting in the front with Ryan and Trigger. It would have been quieter, at least. “Are you just going to yell at me, or are you going to tell me how to keep Carnivora? Or least explain WHY we need it?” </p><p> </p><p>“We’ve told you that,” Vido said. He had his head wrap off for now, and his heavily tinted goggles were wrapped around one fist. Up close and in the dim interior of the car, he seemed to be able to see the 3 of them more clearly. “Carnivora is both our best source of recruits and generates too much income for us to do without it.” He glanced at the other two. “Obviously, under you, there’ll likely be changes--” </p><p> </p><p>“Don’t suggest it to her. I know she’s going to whine about the fact that people die, but don’t make it happen more quickly,” Carver groaned. </p><p> </p><p>Millie lifted her head from the glass to glare at him directly. “I could always decide to not get it back AT ALL. Would you prefer that? Then I won’t whine!” </p><p> </p><p>“You’ll find something else,” Carver replied, and she could hear the sneer in his voice. “I have faith in you, Queen Mother.” </p><p> </p><p>“Millicent--” Vido cut in. “Like I said, we can’t go without it. As long as it continues being profitable, we’re willing to let you make changes without a fight. <em> We discussed it already </em>.” There was an edge to his tone that had Carver sitting back in his seat and Aggie blowing out a sigh. </p><p> </p><p>“As long as it doesn’t start losing money,” Carver agreed with a snarl. </p><p> </p><p>“To be fair to Queen Mom, I think we can compromise on Carnivora. It’s Pandora; people are so desperate for entertainment, they’ll pay for anything.” Aggie leaned over and rolled down the window. Vido squinted and cursed, turning his head away. Aggie lifted the rifle, aimed it out the window, and lined the scope up with her eye. </p><p> </p><p>“What are you--” Millie began, and then Aggie pulled the trigger. Vido sighed and Carver ducked his head to try and see what she’d shot at.  </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, get fucked!” Aggie pulled the rifle back in. “Dropped a Rakk at 150 years. Mid air. No big deal, but I’m STILL the best shot on Pandora.” She set her gun down and folded her arms behind her head, smirking proudly. Her eyes snapped back to Millie. “Anyway, the Grease Monkeys...”</p><p> </p><p><em> Finally. </em>“Yes! I know what I’m going to say, generally. More food, more protection, less conflict. But I don’t want to be caught off guard. What do they want, what are they going to ask me? Why did they leave?” </p><p> </p><p>“They left because the Calypsos died.” Aggie said. “Easy as that.” </p><p> </p><p>“They left because <em> Troy </em> died,” Bone Carver corrected. To Millie, he said, “Lesson one about running the COV. Some clans came here for Tyreen, some for Troy, and only a few really came for both. Learn which is which; the difference matters.” </p><p> </p><p>Millie tilted her head. “Which one did your clan come for?” </p><p> </p><p>“...Troy. Obviously Troy.” He sounded confused, but before Millie could press, Vido spoke. </p><p> </p><p>“What do you know about the Grease Monkeys?” He sounded tense, and Millie returned to the task at hand. She tried to remember any scrap of conversation she’d overheard from the Twins. They never taught her anything about the COV or Pandora on purpose. But she had a good memory and a careful ear, the kind you develop when your parents are important people who have to constantly impress more important people. “They were Joey Sparker’s clan, and the Chief is her uncle. They designed, built, and maintained most COV vehicles.” </p><p> </p><p>“And weapons,” Vido added. </p><p> </p><p>“Their emblem is a wrench crossed with a pistol. They’ve held the same clan grounds for generations, which is only true for a few groups. Before the COV they were at war with--” Millie paused, looking up at the torn and dented ceiling of the van. “Eyes of the Hill and the Terrorbytes?” She looked back at them. “...Eyes of the Hill are gone. That might make them happy?” </p><p> </p><p>“But Terrorbytes are still with us,” Vido said. To Aggie, he said, "Would you put that up? Its bright out and I cannot see. " </p><p> </p><p>"I'm not done shooting, where are your shades?" </p><p> </p><p>"They're not exactly the most comfortable things in the world, and if I can have them off, I prefer to." </p><p> </p><p>"And if I can shoot, I prefer to!" </p><p> </p><p>“So, isolation from one clan, and ongoing peace with the other?” Millie tried, hoping to regain their attention. </p><p> </p><p>“You could offer to crush the Eyes of the Hill,” Bone Carver suggested. “Win points with the Grease Monkeys and send a message to the Scarecrow Stalkers.” </p><p> </p><p>Aggie snorted. “We talked about that last night, numbskull. We’re too weak to go to war. Gotta rebuild and regroup, not run around picking fights!” She finished, earning a grateful look from Millie. </p><p> </p><p>“I hate regrouping,” Carver grumbled. “Weak is the best time to start chucking grenades. Make everyone too scared of you to keep trying shit.” </p><p> </p><p>“One on one gunfight strategy might not be our best option here.” Vido said dryly. “Millicent, did you ever MEET Joey Sparker?” </p><p> </p><p>Memories popped up, a short chain of them. A framed photo on Troy’s desk, showing a beautiful woman with russet skin, dark eyes, and twin raven braids, kneeling in the midst of a disassembled motorcycle engine. Troy would pick it up at least once a day, touching the glass lightly. A video stream that played for 24 hours straight on the COV streams, showing a battered white leather jacket, jewelry made of turquoise and intricate beadwork, and a customized pistol, set into a coffin and carried into a deep cave. The loose collection of possessions was meant to replace Joey’s destroyed body. An ancient metal toolbox with Joey’s name stenciled on, sitting under Troy’s bed. Millie knew Troy looked at it often; it was never untouched long enough to gather dust. Stu’s corpse, bloating in the sun. A grim reminder of the Twins’ wrath.  </p><p> </p><p>“No,” Millie said softly. She’d met Hana the Android, and Myka the Make-Up Artist. But not the friend Troy never wanted to admit he missed. Not the woman Troy had tortured a man to death for. “She was gone before we could meet,” Millie added. </p><p> </p><p>“I would use Joey. Her relationship to Troy,” Vido said. He looked to Carver. “You knew her better than I did--” </p><p> </p><p>“Joey was devoted to Troy, and she believed in the COV,” Carver said, leaning forward across the gap. “But most of all, Joey was a showboat about her talent. Carnivora was based on her initial designs. Most of the COV launchers came from her blueprints. She was more talented that her father, brother, and uncle put together. That’s your angle. Convince them that Joey’s creations deserve to be used and they should be used by the COV.” </p><p> </p><p>“That was...surprisingly non-combative, thank you.” </p><p> </p><p>Bone Carver only grunted in response. “Another thing; you know what a Foretold is?” </p><p> </p><p>“...The Psycho Prophecies,” she said slowly. </p><p> </p><p>“Very good,” Aggie said, pleased. She was lining her rifle up again, and Vido muttered “Please DON’T” as she squeezed the trigger. </p><p> </p><p>“Troy said he was one,” Millie said. </p><p> </p><p>Vido looked in Millie's general direction, scowling. “So was Tyreen,” he snapped. </p><p> </p><p>Millie blinked at him, and then looked over at Carver, eyes growing wide. Psycho Prophecies, with a rare few exceptions, were localized to their clans. She knew that, somehow; she couldn’t remember who had told her that, where she’d heard it from. “Your clan!” She said. “Troy was--” </p><p> </p><p>“The Red Devil Undying,” Carver finished. Millie couldn’t see enough of his face to tell, but there was a sadness in his voice that she hadn’t heard before. A strange pride too, mixed in beneath the grief. “Marked in crimson power, he comes from the burning wilds to drink the pain like water. In his footsteps, we find the future, and in his future, we find peace.” </p><p> </p><p>Millie stared at him. Troy had called himself a Foretold, and she’d known Tyreen was one too. She vaguely recalled that that was the origins of their cult; the fact that they fulfilled the wild and colorful prophecies of some of the bandit clans. But she’d never thought to ask what the Prophecies were. Or which clans believed in them. Questions could be dangerous with Twins. And, truth be told, Millie hadn’t cared much about the ramblings of violent madmen. She was not a cultist, and regardless of how much she had loved the Twins, she hadn’t thought they were Gods. “Drink the pain like water…” Millie echoed. Yeah. That sounded like Troy. She looked to Vido. “And Tyreen. Yours?” </p><p> </p><p>Vido face softened, and Millie wondered how well he could see her with the sunlight pushing it was inside. “Yes,” he said. “Tyreen was the Great Bat, who flew from the Vault of Stars to feast on our enemies and lead us to glory and peace.” </p><p> </p><p>“They both mention peace?” </p><p> </p><p>“Every prophecy mentions peace,” Aggie said, not taking her eye from the scope. She fired again, and it finally clicked. Her gun wasn’t making any noise. At all. “Most of us just assumed that meant ‘your Foretold will show up and kill all the other clans, so you rule Pandora’. Then we thought it meant the Calypsos.” </p><p> </p><p>Silence. Aggie fired again, and Millie could see that her mouth was now a hard, thin line. After a minute or two, Carver said flatly, “It was the Calypsos. As far as the cult is concerned, the future we were promised is here.” </p><p> </p><p>“And we’re going to keep it, <em> no matter what </em> we have to do,” Aggie added. She took her eye from the scope and pulled her gun back inside. "We're here." </p><p> </p><p>The car came to a halt, and then the cab doors banged open and shut. Anxiety ran down Millie's spine like a trickle of ice water. Vido began retying his head scarf, and Aggie put her window back up. As if sensing Millie's distress, she glanced over. "You can let us handle most of it," she suggested. "Trust us, we know letting you twist in the wind by yourself is a bad idea." </p><p> </p><p>The door beside Millie was pulled open, and Ryan's moon-bright eyes greeted here. "Queen Mother!" He chirped, offering a hand to help her down. "Welcome to the Pueblo!" </p><p> </p><p>  </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Soooooo. I strongly debated whether I was going to cut the "foretold" and "psycho prophecies" from this. I feel like its A) too late to include it and B) takes up space in the narrative. It also further muddies the waters on how much Millie did and didn't know from her time with them. </p><p>Anyway, I'd really welcome your thoughts! Thanks for reading guys.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Who The Fuck Is Dezill?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Trigger warnings for child slavery and discussions of sex trafficking.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>MYKA #1 </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tyreen: What are you doing here? </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Myka: Plucking your eyebrows and getting rid of your ingrown hairs. Remember? </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tyreen: No, I mean HERE. Pandora, the CoV? Like...you’re some rock star dermatologist. Shouldn’t you be working on movie lots and making bank, instead of being my make-up girl? </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Myka: I like it better here. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tyreen: Why? </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Myka:...I uh. I used to be a miner. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tyreen: What? </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Myka: I. Um. I was born on Rouge. You know where that is? </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tyreen: No. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Myka: It’s this tiny planet. It’s owned by Dahl, but they just collect rent on it, I guess? It’s mostly weird colored dust and rocks. The only real thing of value on it is, well. The dust. It goes in make-up. My family was deep in debt to the mining company. I started working in the mines when I was 7. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tyreen: Wh-what? 7?! </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Myka: Heh. Yeah. Have you ever looked at my hands? </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tyreen: All those little scars--</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Myka: The stones didn’t break clean. Jagged edges. But. We got out. My big sister dug up a real deep vein of this rich purple. Made the mining company a lot of dough, selling it BeautyStar and Pretty Paint and all those other bitch factories. Our bonus got us out of debt, but just barely. We hitched it to Promethea, and scraped by for a few years. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tyreen: Sounds like a good reason to hate this shit. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Myka: Ha! Humans are always going to paint our faces and make ourselves colorful. No fur or feathers anymore, so we made lipstick and hair dye. But I do hate the companies. They don’t have to use shit mined by babies. And people don’t have to let them get away with it by buying from them. So. I smiled realllll pretty for some guilt-wracked philanthropists, and got into a decent school. Dual major in Med and Chem Engineering, and viola. Ethical make-up that is pound for pound better for your skin. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tyreen: Okay. When does the other shoe drop? </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Myka: When I go belly up because my competition ran a smear campaign against us AND dropped their prices by 20% until I was bankrupt. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tyreen: Holy--what the entire shit? That’s--oh WOW. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Myka: So fuck em. Fuck em all. If it puts the mega-corps of this fucked up system in the dirt, I’ll help you as long as it takes.   </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>UNREGISTERED SPACE STATION, UNCLAIMED SPACE </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The girls were clustered in small pods around the dirty floor. Most were talking quietly. Some were playing games they’d invented with scraps and debris. Claudia was braiding Ida’s hair and Franszika was singing old nursery rhymes, but with modifed, crude lyrics. Millie was giggling a little at some of them. They’d been given a rare chance to bathe and clean themselves in the crew showers earlier.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>About an hour after their midday meal, the door to the storage hold flew open again. Sick yellow light spilled down the steel mesh steps before it was blocked by a bulky frame. A booming voice barked down at them. “Line up!” The girls and Claudia were on their feet in seconds, scrambling to the filthy, bare metal walls. Millie slipped on something, and Elsa grabbed her elbow and hauled her forward. “Against the walls, arms behind your backs! Nobody move, nobody say a fucking word!” The slavers came down the stairs, feet heavy in their thick leather boots, and stood in the middle of the floor, cattle prods out and sparking. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Millie was shivering against the wall. The only thing any of them were dressed in were thin, sleeveless slips in various shades of beige and gray, and the impossible cold of space was seeping into her skin. “Okay, they’re quiet! Come on down!” More heavy boots on the stairs, and Millie’s heart clenched. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Buyers. </span>
  </em>
  <span>That explained why they’d been hosed off and allowed to brush their hair and teeth.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Half a dozen people filed into view, the ship’s cheap lights catching their bizarre outfits. Shiny silver leather jackets pocked with blood red patches, faded boots, and ripped pants. As they reached the bottom, Millie could see them more clearly. Their faces were studded with metal spikes and splashed with tattoos. “Don’t kill em, maim em, or fuck em,” one of the slavers (Millie thought his name was Charlie) informed the man at the end of the line. His hair was striped in silver and candy-red dye, and his eyes were bright yellow from contacts. He had a narrow, suspicious face, and his nose seemed permanently wrinkled. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Kay,” said the man. He crossed his arms and walked to the first girl in line: it was Yasmina. She cringed away from him, but he seized her chin and yanked until he could study her face. “So like, how old?” He asked over his shoulder. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“These ones? The youngest are 13, the oldest are 18. That one there, the blonde? She’s 17.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What about her?” One of the other people said, walking up to Claudia. This one looked female, with an ungeled mohawk hanging in her face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She’s about 40...45, there-ish,” said Charlie. “She was their chaperone, keeps them in line. Willful, but she keeps them working so we let them live.”   </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hmmm.” The man with yellow eyes let go of Yas and kept walking down the line. Across the floor, his friends were doing the same, stopping at random girls and looking them over. All of the girls stood more or less still, and none of them made eye contact. Millie tried to relax, tried to keep her face blank and her body still. A boy her age had once screamed at the wrong moment and caught a bullet to the chest for his crime. “You get ‘em to do tricks and shit?” The man asked. He stopped in front of Heidi and grimaced when she instantly started weeping. “Or are they just set pieces?” Heidi wasn’t being loud, but big tears spilled down her face and rolled off her chin to soak her flimsy dress. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Across the room, Claudia was quaking with nervous anger, and when the man roughly grabbed Heidi’s neck, she took half a step forward. Her mouth was working and her fist flexing. The slaver Millie thought was called Donnie brandished one of the cattle prods at her. “Don’t move, C,” he warned. “You wanna end up in med bay again?” Claudia closed her eyes briefly. Then she plastered herself against the wall again, and the man let go of Heidi. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As he approached Millie, he said, “I asked a question, bro.” He stopped in front of Millie, and ducked his head slightly to meet her eyes. “Hmmm...nice,” he murmured, and grabbed her jaw. He was wearing gloves made of some sort of thick, rough material. Not leather, not nylon, but something artificial and scratchy. Millie bit her lip and tried not to cringe as he tipped her chin up. “Like. They’re CUTE,” he continued. “But we’re from Pandora. Bandit country, gotta be practical. So, I’m not paying this much for 25 fuckdolls.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Several of the girls burst into tears and Claudia ran forward a few quick steps. She was shouting something Millie couldn’t process before Donnie hit her in the stomach with the prod. Claudia gasped and fell to the floor, and even more of the girls started crying. Millie’s eyes were burning with frightened tears, and her heart was being squeezed by an icy fist, but she didn’t cry. Instead she bit her lip and stared past the man’s ear, at Claudia, who was being pulled back to her feet. “Quiet!” Barked one of the slavers. “We’ll wreck you little brats, understand!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As if he hadn’t heard the sobs or the threats, Charlie spoke again. “Well they’re not rocket scientists, but they’ve been taught basic service, and how to behave.” He sounded annoyed. “Look, Dezill, if you wanted sex toys--” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dezill laughed. “Dude, I’m not sure I don’t. Flying a little blind here.” He grabbed Millie’s hair instead, pulling her head to the side and inspecting her neck and jaw. Millie met Claudia’s eyes, and she squeezed her fists together behind her back. He let go, saying, “Gods are picky.” Instead of moving onto the next girl, he turned his back to Millie. The back of his jacket bore a dark red image of an alien animal head, baring sharo fangs. Dezill walked to Charlie, hands buried in his pockets. “So. Okay. Here’s the gist of what I’m thinking. I either want all of them for housework, or I want two to four of them for sex work.” Millie’s stomach lurched in terror, but to her relief, none of the others began crying again. There was shuffling, murmurs, some tense gasps, but no more sobs.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charlie grunted. “We don’t traffick kids, normally. Not for that,” he added. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a sneer in Dezill’s voice when he answered. “Oh, fuck off with that! Like you know what they’re used for after they’re off your ship! And like you really </span>
  <em>
    <span>care</span>
  </em>
  <span>. You sell people, dude!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charlie sighed. “It’ll be 6.5 million for the lot, or 1 million for 4. 2 would be--” He paused, looking around at the girls, pondering. “Which ones?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dezill jerked a thumb over his shoulder, at Millie. “Tall brunette with the big eyes for sure.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Millie, very briefly, wished she was dead, and Claudia moaned “No!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Anyone else?” Charlie asked, finally switching his cattle prod off to cross his arms. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dezill paused. “Guys? Anyone else tick the boxes we got from our info?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wavey black hair, blue eyes!” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Odetta. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Natural red head.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Tamara. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Were we told redhead? Then again, I guess redheads are just good in general--” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They’re children!” Claudia screamed, and Bill, (his name Millie remembered at once), punched her across the face. Elsa screamed and Tamara yelled her name. The following sharp gasp and pained whimpers signalled the girls’ punishments. Millie tried to shut down, go blank inside like she had when the slavers had hurled Margot Shultz out of the airlock for biting one of them.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charlie craned his neck to look at Millie. “Yeah. Half million for two,” he finished.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Little steep,” Dezill said. 6 and a half mil for 25 girls? Like, I’d pay that for a militia, or like hospital staff. Bunch of mechanics maybe. But maids? How about 4 million for the lot.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charlie scoffed, and adjusted his stance. “Are you dumb? These are Anholtan girls. Central system, from ritzy Dahl districts.” He gestured to Yasmina. “You know what I can get for JUST her?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uhg. What about the cutie with the mole?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, her? If you’re just taking her that’d be--” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Boss are we really gonna pinch pennies here?” Someone asked, a short figure with a plastic-looking skirt and a shaved head.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They didn’t ask for whores. They asked for people who know how to keep floors and dishes and sheets clean.” Someone else pointed out, from their position beside a trembling Bianca. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dezill groaned. “Fine! Fine. 5.5 million? Considering that you said they’re trained, but half of ‘em cry and that one keeps mouthing off.” Dezill sounded smug. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charlie sighed. “6 million even for the lot.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Done!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>MILLIE #2</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>TROY: *positions the small camera on his desk to face him in his chair, forces a smile, looks beyond the camera* “Hey! Hey Millie!” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>MILLIE: *off screen* Yes? *some sounds of what might be pots in a sink* </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>TROY: *seemingly pats his lap* Come here for a minute, okay cutie? </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>MILLIE: *off screen* Okay. *footsteps; Millie comes into frame, we mostly see leg/hip/torso, in frayed cotton shorts and a restitched tank top* </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>TROY: *smiles at her, reaches with his flesh hand to tug her in close by her waistband* Sit down, back to my chest, like you like. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>MILLIE: *sighs softly, apparently nods, and then turns and drops into Troy’s lap. She settles against his chest, and then frowns at the desk* Is...is that on? </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>TROY: Hmm? *he’s wrapped his arm around her waist and rests his chin on her shoulder* Yeah, it’s recording--</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>MILLIE: *visibly frightened, tries to squirm away* Are you tricking me, because!-- </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>TROY: Whoa, whoa, hey settle down! *he grips her tighter and speaks firmly* Would I do that? </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>MILLIE: *says nothing, stares at the camera, visibly tense* </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>TROY: Um. I mean, I don’t--Look that other time was a joke, I wasn’t actually mad--</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>MILLIE: Why are you recording me when I can’t be on camera?! </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>TROY: Shush, Mills, you aren’t gonna get in trouble, I’m not tricking you this time. *he kisses her shoulder* I just...can you talk into the camera for me? I’m...I’m testing something, just do it for me, okay? </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>MILLIE: Okay, Troy.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>TROY: Good girl. I need you to say a couple words for me, okay? *he looks a bit sad and frustrated but pushes past it, he gives a list of random, multi-syllable words* </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>MILLIE: *visibly confused* Calendar. Angelic. Gritty. Swimming--What is this? </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>TROY: Uh. *he briefly buries his face in her hair, saying nothing for a few seconds* Accent challenge. I can’t post you, obviously, but that dorky accent of yours is so fucking cute I wanted to make you do it anyway. *he kisses her temple*  </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>MILLIE: *bristles visibly* My accent is not dorky. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>TROY: *starts laughing* Say that again! Dorky, say it again! </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>MILLIE: *pouts and says nothing while Troy continues to laugh*</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ava stopped the tape and spun to face the people sitting clustered behind her. She slammed both hands on the table and launched into her spiel. “So I’ve been trying to ID everyone in the Calypso logs, right?” She said, and without even pretending to wait for an answer she continued. “I mean, I couldn’t get it outta my head, you know? What kinda people made the Calypsos nostalgic? What kinda people make people like THEM care?!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Vault Hunters didn’t bother to answer. They all knew she wasn’t really waiting for one. Fl4k and Amara had doubts about Ava’s rambling assertions that she’d made a horrifying discovery. But, Zane insisted on humoring her and Moze thought this might be how Ava processed massive trauma. Thus, they’d joined Ava in a cramped side room and listened to her ramble about The Tapes.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ava went to the board across the room. It was covered in print-outs from COV fan wikis, news sites, and random ECHOnet image search results. Actual red string connected several of them, which had earned a concerned noise from Amara. “I managed to figure out who most of them were via the wikis; Tyreen’s friend Myka, Tyreen’s girlfriend Hana, Troy’s old mechanic Joey.” She smacked the relevant photos as she spoke: A person with warm, dark skin in artfully distressed clothes and elaborate make-up; a surprisingly humanoid android with feminine features, green hair, and golden skin; and a tall young woman with russet-brown skin, dark eyes, and raven black hair in twin braids. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“All of those people appeared on camera, featured in events, or even had their own ECHOnet presence. Myka had a highly loyal fanbase on their own! BUT--” She started smacking other pictures. These ones were blurry, or blown up to show people in the background. Features couldn’t rarely be made out, but they appeared to be two males in bandit garb. “The next two? Vido and Bone Carver? No one seems to fully know who they were...or are. I had to go digging. Find lists of names of bandits and chiefs and other people that Tyreen and Troy mentioned casually, try to match those names with images.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Who made those?” Moze asked, sounding a tad revolted. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ava completely ignored the question. Instead, she spun around and levelled a finger at all of them, wild eyed. “But I got it! These are Bone Carver and Vido, here!” She gestured behind her, indicating the blurry photos. “Myka, Joey, and Hana? They’re dead, outta the picture! Myka and Hana’s deaths DESTROYED Tyreen, by the way. Like seriously, she went off the deep end when she lost Myka.” Ava paused, and then shook herself. It seemed that Ava had a habit of falling into tangents and struggled to prioritize information. They’d had to pull her back to the topic at hand twice before she’d hit PLAY on the video. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But here’s the bad news,” Ava continued “Carver and Vido? No confirmation on their deaths. They might still be alive, and if they are, still operating the COV! Death Screamers and Cave Spiders were powerful clans, it wouldn’t be hard for them to take over--” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Cave Spiders?” Amara repeated. Most of the bandit clans of Pandora were a nebulous, generic haze to her, their differences theoretical.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Subterranean bandit clan,” Zane said out of the side of his mouth. “Nasty bastards, slippery and vicious.”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And, FINALLY!--” Ava ran back across the room to the video player. The nervous looking teenage girl with piles of dark brown curls and ratty clothing continued to stare back at them. “No one knows who this girl is! There is no trace of her in the COV ECHOnet presence! She doesn’t seem to exist! The only things I know about her? Her name is Millie, she wasn’t allowed on camera, she has a really weird accent, and she’s one of the people Troy had FEELINGS for!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Zane spoke up. “Did you say the COV might still be operating?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I would also like to circle back to that--” Amara agreed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ava didn’t seem to notice they’d spoken. “Why the FUCK would the Calypsos be going to such lengths to keep her off camera? This seemingly RANDOM girl?! This video seems to hint that she was a servant or maybe a prisoner of some kind. But the Calypsos don’t hide their crimes! Why’d they hide her? WHY?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Because even dictators might not brag about abusing a child,” FL4K suggested dryly. They felt old fury rising at the sight of Troy Calypso. The presence of the girl didn’t help. She was clearly terrified, and too young to be groped and pawed at like that. They considered drumming their fingers in irritation, as they’d seen Amara do many times, but ultimately decided against it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know,” Moze said, shifting in her chair to find a more comfortable slump. “They’ve broadcast worse shit and been celebrated for it.” She glanced back at the paused video and grimaced. Poor kid.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can we turn that off? It’s making me ill.” Zane added. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ava pointed frantically at Moze. “Exactly! EXACTLY! There is no obvious reason for them to be hiding this girl so carefully when she is also SO IMPORTANT that Troy made recordings of her to keep after destroying Pandora! It doesn’t make SENSE but I have no idea how to figure out who she is!” Ava, now at the end of her spiel, fell into her chair. “You guys are Vault Hunters. You’ve been all over the galaxy. Help me out here?” She looked at them pleadingly. “I’m scared. I’m scared that the COV might still be, like, a THING and I’m worried that that kid is still down there with them!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a stretch of silence. Moze briefly considered reminding Ava that she was a kid too. But that was entirely beside the point. Beside her, Amara was processing the idea of the Children of the Vault remaining in operation. The Raiders were currently in a state of semi-organized chaos, and there hadn’t been much follow up on the COV yet. There was a general assumption that, with the Calypsos dead, the cult would swallow itself and disappear. But the Raiders survived the loss of Lilith. Finally, Zane said, “That’s an Anholtan accent.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Every head in the room turned towards him, Ava’s eyes bright with sudden excitement. Zane cleared his throat, and continued. “Anholt, central planet, controlled by Dahl.” He squinted at the screen. “You can tell by the ‘R’s...and the ‘T’s…” The girl’s ‘T’s sounded like ‘D’s if you weren’t listening carefully, and her ‘S’s came out as ‘Z’s. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dahl.” Ava repeated. “So, what, ask Tannis?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Erm. Well...Tannis isn’t from Anholt, but--I suppose that’s the only thing I can offer you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why don’t you just...go and check?” Moze asked flatly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Huh?” Ava looked at her blankly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re technically the leader of the Raiders now,” Moze said, finally sitting up straight. She took a moment to stretch her arms and crack the top of her back. “Why don’t you just, go down to Pandora and bang on the COV’s door? Like, ‘hey, cult bastards, you in there?’ And if they are, we puree them.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...Oh holy shit I can totally just do that…” Ava said, something like wonder on her face. “Oh, wow, okay, thank you guys!” Ava shot to her feet, and started to leave the room. She froze near the door, and turned, running back to grab the tape from the video player. “Seriously, you four are the best, I gotta go...do, things, bye!” Ava left in a rush, arms full of tapes and equipment and haphazard charts. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Moze,” FL4K said. “Why did you do that?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bandits!” Moze said defensively. “And, you know, possibly kidnapped child.” She added, gesturing to the now blank screen. Rubbing the back of her head, Moze said, “I don’t know. I thought she needed this? And if the CoV-” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>FL4K got to their feet and interrupted, “Without two mad Sirens at their helm, the bandit clans of Pandora are no longer a galactic threat. They should be fought and contained, but I see no need to fully exterminate them now. As for the girl--” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Long dead,” Amara said grimly. “Tragic as it may be, I doubt she’s still alive.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Might be others, though,” Zane said. “Wish we’d known there were prisoners. Might not have set so many buildings on fire.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I think we set a perfectly acceptable amount of buildings on fire,” Amara protested. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We should have burned more.” FL4K helped Amara to her feet. “Come on, you three have not eaten in many hours.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>BC #3 </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Carver: Heard you killed the Blue Bi--what in holy fuck? </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Troy: Surprise~ </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Carver: You look--what is this? Is this from Maya? </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Troy: It’s not going away. I took from her, like I can from Tyreen, and I turned her to ash. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Carver: A husk, like your sister? </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Troy: Nah, no, more! Like actual dust and ash, nothing left! And I can...I can--</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Carver: *quietly* You can what? </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Troy: All sorts of things! I-I, I just gotta practice! I feel it, this power--not just hers, mine! The power I couldn’t use because--</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Carver: *laughing, low and like gravel* I told you. I told you a 100,000 times, boy, you don’t need her. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Troy: Uh. Ha. Yeah I mean--look, whatever! Fucking look at me! I feel amazing! I haven’t felt like this since...since...since ever! Bone Carver...Herakles…</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Carver: Oh. You’re going to be dramatic, aren’t you? </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Troy: You do not get to lecture me about being dramatic! </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Carver: *laughs again* What is it? </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Troy: I wanna do intiation over. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Carver: *voice suddely hard* What? </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Troy: I want to do iniation over, I know you went easy on me--OW OW OW STOP!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Carver: If you ever, EVER imply that I would go easy on you or anyone AGAIN I will crush you snot-nosed, upstart skull with my bare hands! </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Troy: FINE POINT TAKEN! I...you made the trial--</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Carver: We adjust intiation constantly, Godly-Brat. It’s meant to difficult; not impossible. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Troy:...Yeah? </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Carver: Yes, idiot. You can redo it if you’re that broken up about it. But you passed, fair and square, the first try. Like I told you would. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Troy: Yeah. Okay, man. I believe you, I get it.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Carver: I treat you with every ounce of constructive brutality that everyone else gets. I have never, once, thought of you as fragile. Fragile things do not survive what you’ve survived. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Troy: Aw. You’re gonna get me all teary-ey--AH. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Carver: It’s a hug, deal with it. </span>
  </em>
  
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Link to my tumblr, for more of my content in your life~ https://jaymonsterthecanaryprince.tumblr.com/aboutme</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. City In The Sand</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Look I updated it. Be proud of me. Feast upon my trash and rejoice.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Millie stared at the sight spilling out before her. The Pueblo was a deep canyon, a broad smile in the desert’s terracotta and sandstone face. As she walked closer, still absently holding Ryan’s hand, she could see further down into the rocky chasm. The valley’s nature shelves and cliffs held dozens and dozens of buildings, all of baked clay, hewn rock, and what looked like carved crystal. Hundreds of walkways of carved stone and iron-enforced wood circled and criss-crossed the open air, busy with the traffic of clan members. In between them, metal platforms on hydraulic lifts sailed past. Some were only a few feet across, carrying human passengers, but others were several meters wide, carrying motors, vehicles, and fuel canisters. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sophia, Eve, and Magdalene…” Millie breathed. The city was gorgeous, and seemed more grown than built. The walls of the canyon and buildings were painted as well, pictographs and murals in dozens of colors. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Queen Mother,” Ryan prompted. “You shouldn’t be late!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Right, right…” Millie turned, reluctantly, from the view of the Pueblo, and then pulled her hand from Ryan’s. He was wearing old, cracking leather gloves; like everyone else, he was careful not to let their skin touch. Trying not to flush, she clasped her hands behind her back and followed Vido, Carver, and Aggie towards one of the hydraulic lifts. The lift was just easing into place, and there were half a dozen people on board. In the center was a middle aged man with hard eyes and cropped, graying hair. Another man, with a short, crooked nose and a fringed leather coat, stood beside him, flanked by a sullen teenaged boy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aggie leaned over, and said out of the side of her mouth, “Chief Gerardo is in the center, his brother is next to him. His name’s Alejandro, and his son is Ritchie. They were Joey’s father and brother.” Millie nodded, studying their faces. She could see Joey in them, sort of; in the shape of Alejandro’s jaw and the line of Gerardo’s nose. The lift gate opened, and the gaggle of Grease Monkey’s spilled out. Carver looked at Vido briefly, who was pulling his goggles back on with a grumble of </span>
  <em>
    <span>can’t see a damn thing</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and then he strode forward. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Gerardo!” He called, and the man looked up from the elderly woman he’d been speaking to. He smiled grimly, and stepped out of his entourage. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bone Carver! You disgusting, backstabbing thief,” he drawled, and clasped Carver’s massive hand. Gerardo wasn’t small either, easily over six feet, but he was slender, his shoulders narrow. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Better a thief than a wrench wrangler,” Carver responded, and squeezed Gerardo’s shoulder. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gerardo’s smile faded as he spoke again. “...I’m sorry about your boy.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carver paused, and his voice was thick when he spoke again. “Our Gods are one with the stars now. And we all mourn them.” The group with Gerardo echoed the sentiment, and Millie squeezed her hands tighter. Vido had told her this morning that Gerardo had most likely not told his clan of the Twins’ betrayal. That the man had expressed fear of his people’s wrath, had worried over what the news would do to them, before he’d made the decision to abandon the cult and return to the Pueblo. “Come on, meet the new management,” Carver added, and turned, gesturing towards Millie. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gerardo followed, and Trigger and Ryan moved forward to flank Millie on either side. The chief inclined his head slightly, and said, “Little miss, I can’t get a straight answer. Is your title God-Queen, or Queen Mother?” His eyes were on her left arm, lips twitching with an emotion Millie couldn’t name. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She started to answer, but Ryan beat her to the punch. “Her majesty’s title is Queen Mother,” he said, tone frosty and stance tense. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>On her right side, Trigger added, “Do not call her ‘little miss’, </span>
  <em>
    <span>sir</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” There were other Poison Maw soldiers in her entourage, and Millie could feel them all grouping up behind her, interest piqued by her guards’ hostility.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Boys, it’s alright,” Millie said. “No trouble, not today.” They relaxed, slightly, and Gerardo eyed them. Thoroughly unimpressed. Millie forced a smile and strode closer. “Chief Gerardo, your city is breath-taking.” She could feel the pull of his life force, and it made her fingers itch. Millie wondered if she’d ever shake hands again, or if Phaseleech had put a stop to that.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Gerardo said, and crossed his arms. His nephew was peering out from behind him, and Millie caught his eye. She tried to smile at him too. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you twelve?” He asked, sounding revolted, and Millie started. “Uncle,” the boy continued, a whine creeping into his voice. “This is stupid, tell them to leave! She’s a kid!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So are you,” Millie said, failing to hide her irritation. The boy--Ritchie--looked furious, and his father sniggered under his breath.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You let the boy insult guests often?” Carver sneered, and Gerardo said something to his nephew in a language Millie didn’t recognize. Ritchie, who really couldn’t be more than 16 himself, sulked but stayed quiet. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Queen Mother, we really should talk in my house,” he said, and gestured back towards the hydraulics. Snapped his fingers a few times in the air, and the gaggle of people who’d come up with him gave him their full attention. He barked what sounded like a series of orders, and they all broke off into various directions. “This it?” He asked Millie, gesturing to the people around her. “I can allow Carver, and Nagheen, and the Cave Spider--” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I have a name, Gerardo.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“--And </span>
  <em>
    <span>two</span>
  </em>
  <span> of your guards. Not the whole damn platoon, understand?” He finished. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Millie was still trying to work out who ‘Nagheen’ was, but nodded. “Ryan, Trigger!” She chirped. “You two, with me?” The men chorused their agreement, before grudgingly sending their clan members back to the cars. “Are these solar powered?” Milliee asked, following Gerardo to the lift. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course,” Gerardo said, stepping inside. Aggie let Vido take her arm for the walk, murmuring to him where the step was. Ritchie and Alejandro were talking to Carver. Well, Alejandro was talking. Ritchie was still wrinkling his nose at Millie. “Nothing that could hurt the canyon or anything that lives inside,” Gerardo continued, hitting a few buttons on the lift’s panel. “Our only rub for a long time was fuel. Couldn’t find something that burned clean.” His voice shifted, growing tender and fond. “But my niece came into the world and solved that problem.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She was brilliant,” Millie said, and Alejandro fell silent behind her. “Troy always said so.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The lift began to sink, and Millie went to the side to look down. “Queen Mother--” Ryan began, sounding worried, as Millie grabbed the railing and watched the beautiful city flow past her. Before now, she’d thought no place could outshine Dresden, Anholt’s capital.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, said she was brilliant and then robbed us of our vengeance,” Ritchie said, and his father said something harsh to him in their native tongue. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Millie looked over her shoulder at him. “I’m sorry about your sister,” she said softly. “I have a sister too. And a big brother. I can’t imagine...well. I can. They’re on my home planet, and I miss them every second.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ritchie scowled at her and said nothing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gerardo’s home was filled with study furniture, soft leathers, and vibrant beaded artworks. Ritchie brought a rich-smelling stew out of the kitchen and grudgingly served it. Aggie waved it off, saying she couldn’t eat pork. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Didn’t know you were coming, Bullettooth,” Gerardo chastised, good-naturedly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Between us, Queen Mom doesn’t go anywhere without me,” Aggie said, only a tad smug. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Millie accepted her bowl gratefully. As usual, she was starving, and did her best not to bolt her food. Beside her, Vido had shoved his goggles over his forehead, the natural gloom of the houses much easier on his eyes. He’d started to decline the food, but Millie was fairly certain Aggie had kicked his foot under the table, so he’d also accepted a bowl. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gerardo was eyeing Millie from his seat, and his brother was doing the same. Even less subtly. “So, my son’s kind of an asshole. But seriously, how old are you?” Alejandro asked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Millie swallowed another bite of her stew and said, “Seventeen, sir.” She set her bowl down. “Old enough, I think.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hence </span>
  <em>
    <span>why</span>
  </em>
  <span> Queen Mom doesn’t go anywhere without us,” Aggie said. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Seventeen.” Gerardo shook his head. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You were twenty,” Alejandro grunted. “You managed fine.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gerardo snorted. “Yeah, I was twenty. But I had Granny, and Dad, and Auntie Cici. And I was running one clan, not a nation several million strong.” To Millie he said, “Look, kid--” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t call her kid, for fuck’s sake,” Carver said, exasperated, as Trigger and Ryan tensed up near the door. “These two are Poison Maw and they’re awfully bored.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It won’t kill you to show her some respect, but it will kill you to deny it!” Ryan added. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Stop that!” Millie said, far too tired for this.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t fucking threaten him!” Ritchie said at the same time, and Gerardo pointed at the door. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Out!” He shouted, and Ritchie stormed off. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Alright.” He said after a second. “Alright. I’m sorry that I called you ‘kid’. In my fucking defense, you are a kid. But you’re also head of the CoV.” He lifted his face, and continued, “Queen Mother. I know you want Carnivora back. But I’m sorry. We built it for the Calypsos, with the understanding that they were...They were the future, and with them gone, I need to look after my clan.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carver, whose massive frame took up an entire side of the table, spoke up. “You built it for the Calypsos, and she is their heir.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My people don’t recognize her claim and are entitled to their labor,” Gerardo countered. “And we need the food and revenue that comes from it.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So do we,” Millie said. “I must look after my clan too. Gerardo, I’m not here to strong-arm you out of Carnivora. I want your clan to come back.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not happening,” Alejandro said flatly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His brother shook his head. “The CoV has nothing left to offer us,” he said. “My clan can survive just fine on its own. We have no interest in war, we’ll leave you alone. But we’re not coming back and you’re not leaving with Carnivora.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not following your logic here,” Carver cut in, and everyone turned to face him. “Even with the Twins gone, we’re stronger together. And if the girl’s your concern--” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The girl is not my concern,” Gerardo said calmly, and Millie could practically smell the irritation rolling off of her guards. “You three are my fucking concern.” He leaned forward onto the table. “This is the lesson we learned from the Calypsos: we can’t afford the risks of giving away our autonomy. I’ve already told you, we don’t want war. We have no interest in expansion. And bowing down to some higher authority basically enlists us in a draft pool. No more.” He looked out the rough-cut window, at the elevators and walkways of the canyon. “The CoV had perks,” he admitted grimly. “But they don’t outweigh the cost of my people’s safety. And I’m taking Carnivora back because, to be blunt, Queen Mother? The CoV took my niece, and a fifth of my troops. It's our payment.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Your payment?” Vido snarled, and Millie jumped. She’d rarely heard Vido’s careful monotone waver. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gerardo glared at Vido and squared his shoulders. Jaw set, he said, “Yeah, Spider, our payment. We shed blood for the Children. We shed blood for Troy Calypso and he--” Gerardo paused, and his eyes snapped around the room. Aggie and Carver did the same, but Vido’s stayed on Gerardo. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alejandro stays,” Gerardo said. He looked at Millie. “Your guards in the know?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Millie opened her mouth before she had any idea what she was going to say. “I--,” She looked over her shoulder at them. Both men were still standing by the door, guns put away. And when they saw her looking, they both smiled. Trigger was standing upright, practically at attention. One hand behind his back, while the other hung “casually” down beside his digistructure. Ryan was slightly more relaxed, arms crossed. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You should fire the rest and keep those two. </span>
  </em>
  <span>They’d been nice to her. Tried to take care of her.  </span>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Millie said, despite Aggie’s noise of protest. Even Vido rolled his eyes. “Oh, what?” Millie snapped. “You expect me to send them away every time I need to speak with one or all of you? Leave myself alone?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Let her keep the boys,” Carver drawled, and Millie was so startled she almost laughed. She glanced at him, but he had resumed eating. “We should reward her when she’s rational.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aggie and Vido still looked uneasy, but Millie ignored them. She still wasn’t entirely certain she could trust anyone else in this room. “Go ahead,” she said to Gerardo. “You can say it.” She folded her hands on the table. The sight of her mostly finished food reminded her that it had been over two hours since she leeched. She briefly closed her eyes as a mixture of nausea and hunger swept through her body. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gerardo swallowed, and ticked his eyes to the far wall. Millie followed his gaze. A frame blueprint of an engine hung on the smooth clay and stone wall, beside a photo of Joey. “She’d have followed him into hell,” Gerardo said simply. “And all along, he was going to crack the fucking planet in half?! They were working to destroy Pandora, this entire time! He...he!” Millie heard Trigger and Ryan gasping, then Trigger cursed. A string of harsh profanity under his breath, and then both of them talking in whispers. Across the table, Gerardo shook his head violently and finally spat out a terse “Fuck them! Fuck them </span>
  <em>
    <span>both</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” At his brother’s outburst, Alejandro laughed bitterly and Bone Carver’s face twisted with a flash of grief and anger </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then Vido cut in, voice viscous and tense. “Yes, fuck him, okay? For what he did to ALL OF US, he can burn in hell--” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Watch it,” Carver said hoarsely and even Aggie’s eyes suddenly looked wet.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vido closed his eyes briefly. And then continued. “What about what</span>
  <em>
    <span> Tyreen</span>
  </em>
  <span> did for you?” He said harshly. “Did she, or did she not help you?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In the silence that followed, Millie chanced a glance over her shoulder. Ryan was gaping at her, and Trigger had lost his ready posture. Now he slumped, like his partner, mouth twisted into a vicious frown. Ryan met her eyes and Millie cringed. Even through the tint of his aviators, she could see his confusion and his pain. She felt like an idiot for not preparing them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Across the table, Gerardo scoffed, interrupting her regret. “Tyreen? No.” Vido’s eyes flew open wide and so did his mouth. Millie, on instinct, shot her hand out. Her fingers closed around his wrist, and Vido stopped mid-breath. Gerardo eyed Vido until the man relaxed, and Millie slowly withdrew her hand. “All I meant,” Gerardo said gently, “Was that it was all of you--the other CLANS--that helped us.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“To be clear,” Alejandro drawled. “We were fine before the Calypsos. Anything we gained? We gained from individual clan alliances.” He shrugged. “The CoV made that easy, is all.”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vido’s jaw was still working, but he nodded stiffly. “It’s a… she’s a difficult subject,” he admitted, voice holding the ghost of an apology. “I lose my head.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I understand,” Gerardo said. Attention back on Millie, he continued. “There are things that will hurt to lose.” He gestured to Aggie. “Having less access to clean water, for example. Not much use for indoor plumbing if the pipes are dry.” He sighed. “But I refuse to kneel to an outside person again. I am a leader. I will not be led, especially not into another meat grinder.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If we get into another dust-up, it will be our choice,” Alejandro said firmly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No one elses,” Gerardo confirmed.     </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You think the CoV is destined for more conflict?” Millie asked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’d be a fool not to! No offense, your majesty, but chaos followed this damn cult long before it was helmed by a child.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And you’re willing to sacrifice fresh, clean water for peace?” She kept her voice neutral and thought about how she didn’t feel like a child at all. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gerardo snorted. “I’m only chief because they want me to be. I need to keep their best interests as my priority. We’re not gonna die of thirst; we’ll just need to start rationing tighter again.” Neither he nor his brother could hide their grimaces. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Gerardo, why does this have to be either or?” Millie asked. He looked at her, eyebrows raised, and Millie pressed on before anyone cut her off. “This is a negotiation. You’ve explained why you’re rejecting that deal. Okay. What deal would you accept?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Alejandro said something to his brother in their tongue, and Gerardo responded. “Go on.” He said to Millie. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s not like the CoV has a constitution mandating every single clan gets involved in every single fight. I’m certain we can figure out a--” The word Millie wanted escaped her. Grasping for a suitable one, she looked at the others briefly. Just to make sure she wasn’t digging her own grave wither tongue as the shovel. Aggie scowled and jerked her head, as if to urge Millie to keep talking. Carver looked tense and agitated, but was keeping his mouth shut. And Vido was as unreadable as usual, his neutral mask back in place. “I’m certain we can figure out how to share resources without committing to joint battle efforts,” she finished. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You have Carnivora,” Vido pointed out, and Millie was relieved that his voice was calm. “She gave it up, so you have a fairly solid bargaining chip.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You know how highly I respect you and your clan,” Bone Carver said, and Gerardo looked at him with interest. “Am I going to let a Central System Toddler and a Spider screw you over?” Millie scowled at him, but she could tell him off later. If she had the nerve. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gerardo snorted. “You absolutely would. But not as badly as most.” To Millie he said, “Alright. What’s on the table?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Millie shrugged, and said, “Can’t think of anything that isn’t.” At that, she felt irritation simmering off Aggie, Carver, and Vido again. Perhaps someday she’d grow used to tasting emotions in the air.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Including your Siren powers?” Alejandro asked. “Say we have trouble with corporate bounty hunters, or Eridium miners, the Vault Thieves again. You gonna come and deal with it?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hold it,” Carver said, anger coloring the words. “You can’t refuse to fight for us and then demand the CoV fight for you!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not talking about the CoV, I am specifically asking if she, as the Siren, is going to come and protect us. The people who are, I’m assuming, building all her fucking cars and mining all her fucking Eridium.”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She’s pregnant,” Aggie snarled. “Not risking the baby!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And what about after?” Alejandro shot back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Millie’s heart tried to crawl into her throat and she grabbed the arms of her chair. She started to speak, despite not knowing what she was going to say, but Vido cut her off. “Millicent, when was the last time you fed?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hours ago,” she said, relieved. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She needs to eat,” Aggie agreed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Queen Mother, I have a few doped up rakks,” Ryan said, and Millie’s heart shot from her mouth to her feet. His voice sounded hoarse and weak. When she turned to look at them again, they both looked as bad as they sounded. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They’re in the car,” Trigger said. “Guess I forgot them.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Could you?--” Millie started. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Ry, come on.” The boys left, and Millie glumly slumped onto her elbows on the tabletop. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Quick, while they’re gone,” Vido said tiredly. “They can’t take another shock today.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aggie took the lead, always eager to talk. “Here’s the deal with Queen Mom and the whole “baby thing”…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It took less time than Millie thought. Two minutes or less. When Gerardo and his brother were caught up on Millie’s postpartum plan, Gerardo was banging his head very, very gently against the table. “As much as I despise telling my people another lie,” he said angrily, “I can understand.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You, you can?” Millie asked. The trek from the vehicles to the house had not taken this long, but she supposed they were entitled to dawdling. Still, her body was starting to ache and her temples were throbbing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re a fucking trafficking victim!” Alejandro snapped, and Millie jumped. He’d been scowling and silent throughout the explanation. “If you have to fucking lie to get out of this--” He waved his hand. “Do it. Fine. You aren’t our god. Children should be at home not. Not here.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Exactly!” Carver said. “She can’t do this, it’s just better like this.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gerardo sat up, face grim. “My brother has a point. Now that we have all the information…”   He and Alejandro were talking again, and Gerardo was nodding while eyeing Millie critically. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vido’s hand suddenly landed on her back, and Millie jumped. It was just a quick, reassuring touch before he withdrew again. After a couple of minutes of talk, Gerardo turned his attention back to Millie. “I need to run this by my advisors, and my people in general,” he began, and hope surged in Millie’s chest. “But for now, we have a tentative arrangement, and I don’t see a point in not beginning negotiations.” She almost cheered, and Aggie actually did. Vido slumped with relief beside her, and Carver huffed out a laugh. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tannis wasn’t sure what to do here. She had watched and re-watched the recordings Ava had given her. The girl was indeed from Anholt, that much was clear. After that, it hadn’t been difficult to find her name. That, however, was where matters grew more complex. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>According to Dahl controlled media outlets, Millicent had been aboard the May Queen, an Anholt colony ship carrying some 300+ souls. However, the May Queen never made it to Saxony. Somehow, between Anholt’s surface and its most distant moon, the entire ship simply vanished.   </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dahl launched a full investigation, of course. In addition to General Monday’s Xanth’s granddaughter, the ship had carried numerous wealthy and prominent Anholtan citizens: the Mayor of Dresden’s brother, the stepdaughter of Bavaria’s governor, the children and siblings and parents of Dahl executives. A few movie stars. A few popular singers. So, Dahl poured all their resources into finding the May Queen and her passengers, and bringing them home. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And, according to Dahl, the ship was indeed found. Floating lifeless in the stars. Gutted. Nothing left but corpses. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tannis watched the footage again. A procession of coffins, carried off a Dahl ship. Families waiting at the end of the ramp to collect their dead. Millicent’s family too. The mother went to her knees, dropping the bouquet of yellow roses and tulips she was holding. The father was white as a sheet, the sister in tears. The brother and grandfather? Resolute. Grim. Focused. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And with good reason. According to her translator, the words accompanying the footage were this: “</span>
  <em>
    <span>at the present time, all evidence indicates that this was a cowardly and malicious attack by a Hyperion hit squad</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” The word ‘war’ never came up. But everyone on that planet was thinking it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>    Tannis looked from the screen showing the funeral, to the screen showing Millie. “Did Hyperion do this to you?” She asked the frozen image. “Did they sell some Dahl’s most prized citizens as final humiliation? But then where did the corpses come from? Those coffins are not empty; yet there you sit! If not Hyperion…” She sighed. Moxxxi was the Hyperion expert around her. Perhaps she’d know if this sounded like them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But to Tannis? It sounded more like Dahl. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Bottleneck</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Trigger and Ryan remained silent and moody for the rest of the afternoon. Millie hardly blamed them. They still fell into place behind her as they boarded the lift to return to the cars. Carver evidently noticed their mood. As he stepped past Millie onto the lift, he spared her a glance. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>They’ll get over it</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he sneered, and Millie jumped a bit. After briefly considering a few possible retorts, she elected to remain silent. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She really needed to find out how he could speak Anholtan. It was broken, and his accent was nauseating, but still. Him speaking even a few words would be odd.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Not important. Undoing the mistake she’d made with her personal guards was. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In front of her, Gerardo was still talking to Aggie. Vido slunk by them and onto the lift. Or tried to. While he had no trouble navigating the familiar buildings of the compound, he was unused to the Pueblo, and evidently miscalculated where the step was. His foot connected with the platform’s lip, and he stumbled, started to fall. Millie moved without thinking, darting forward two steps to catch him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The second her hands grabbed his arms, curling around his elbows, Vido shouted in alarm and jerked backwards. “Don’t!” He snapped, and Millie recoiled. Right. No touching. She was full for the moment, the sedated rakks sitting nicely, but that didn’t remove the threat.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aggie and Gerardo had both fallen silent, turning their heads to watch Vido catch his breath. “Vee?” Aggie asked quietly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m alright,” Vido said tersely. “I forgot where the--” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fucking ask next time,” Aggie snapped. “What, you think we’re gonna decide you’re weak enough to kill cuz you REMIND us you’re blind?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vido said nothing, and Gerardo cleared his throat. “It’s just here,” he said quietly, and helped Vido fully onto the lift. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Millie backed up and to the side, pressing against the railing, giving them space. Behind her, Ryan halfheartedly said, “Queen Mother, the railing…” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She looked over her shoulder and gave him a tight smile. “I won’t fall,” she said. Besides, Sirens had wings, right? Maybe if she did slip, she’d learn how to make hers. And if she fell--Millie halted the grim thoughts as Aggie stepped onboard.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Over the now closed gate, Aggie was saying her good-byes, reminding Gerardo of the water delivery schedule. When she’d said “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Khuda Hafiz</span>
  </em>
  <span>” and stepped away, Gerardo looked at Millie. His face was grim, and he sighed before saying, “Miss Xanth...if we knew, if we’d known, how you were being treated,” he stopped. “I had no idea, how badly they were hurting some of their people. I wouldn’t have stood for it. We wouldn’t have let them hurt you.  I’m sorry.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Millie froze. Everyone around her did too. Millie opened and closed her mouth a few times, before managing a quiet, “Thank you.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We have to go,” Vido said pointedly. Gerardo nodded, reached across the platform, and hit the button. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At the clifftop, Millie had one foot in the car door when Trigger’s voice stopped her. “Queen Mother?” She looked over her shoulder, and found herself reflected in the tinted lens of his visor. She was all distorted lines and mixed-up colors, her Siren marks twisted up in knots. For a brief second, she felt nauseated. Sophia, would her stomach never be settled again? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Trigger?” She asked, wishing she could see his eyes. An apology was poised on her tongue, but a strange anxiety held it back. Once offered, it might be rejected, and she couldn’t think of anything worse. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Were they corrupted? The Calypsos? Did the Destroyer--” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The apology backed down and the anxiety was left by itself. But her mouth, thankfully, was much slower than her brain. By the time her lips moved, she’d gathered her thoughts enough to answer. “The Destroyer, I think. But Troy took--” Millie cast around for the Siren’s name. ‘Blue Spirit’, the Psychos had called her. But the bandits-- “He drained Maya the Vault Thief,” she said. “And Tyreen took from the Firehawk. That may have...unsteadied them. We are not sure. But, the Raiders and Thieves did one thing right, and stopped them.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was silent for a few seconds. “If you know what did it, you know how to avoid it.” It was only half a question, but she still nodded. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We couldn’t tell you,” Millie said, cringing as she did. “We--” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He shook his head, hard. “Nah. No. I...who am I to question the Gods?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That hurt so much worse than rage. She didn’t deserve him. “You deserve to know! But, it was too soon--” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Queen Mother, we can’t talk here,” he said insistently, and a bolt of panic went through her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>On the other side of the car, Aggie yanked her door open. “I will leave you two out here!” She shouted over her shoulder, and looked at Millie. “We're burning daylight, and the other Maw says there’s trouble on the road.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Trouble?” Millie repeated, pulling herself into the car. Trigger was gone when she looked back, doubtless circling the car to find his partner. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aggie put her hands behind her head and eyed Millie. “There’s suspicious movement on some of the roads. Somebody might be trying for the compound.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The doors opened again, and Vido and Carver clambered inside. “Why is that my problem?” Vido was demanding. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Because it’s mine, therefore it’s yours,” he snapped back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Asking for help from a Spider? Thought that was beneath you?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re choosing </span>
  <em>
    <span>now</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be sensitive?” Carver asked incredulously.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vido shook his head, and as Millie’s eyes adjusted, she could see his lip curl. “Trigger and Ryan are worried?” Millie prompted. She just wanted the tension to go away. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not them,” Vido said flatly. “They had communications from their headquarters. The Bloody Beasts are roving out of their territory, and it doesn’t look like a routine trip.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...DeZill’s gang.” The engine of the van rumbled to life, and the desert began to surge past the windows. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’re taking an alternate route to avoid them,” Aggie assured her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Someday, we need to stop avoiding them and start dealing with them. DeZill is a problem.” Carver’s gaze fell on Millie, and he sneered a little as he kicked his legs out. “Heh. I doubt Queen Mother wants him spared. We can make a game out of it! First one to bring--” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s enough,” Millie said tiredly. “I don’t think murder’s a game.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s not murder, it’s a strategic assassination,” he shot back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Whatever! Just don’t turn it into a circus!” Millie snapped. Blowing out a sigh, she dropped her head onto one hand. Her eyes slid closed, and she tried to calm herself. Stress was bad for unborn babies, right? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why not? How else are you going to keep people satisfied?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vido spoke up. “Competition keeps us sharp, and killing in the name of the cult keeps them loyal.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Will you back off!” Millie snapped. “Fine, whatever, I don’t care.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was quiet for several minutes after that. Even through the window tint, the blinding sun was warm, almost hot, on her arms. Her baby would never know Winter. Her baby would never know a lot of things. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can we trust Trigger and the other one not to talk?” Aggie asked. She wasn’t asking Millie, so Millie didn’t answer. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If Millie tells them not to, they won’t.” Vido was keeping his voice pitched low, as if Millie was asleep and not sulking. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you saying that because of their clan, or because you know them?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He knows them,” Carver cut in. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They’ve been working under me for a long time, Aggie.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I wanna talk to them when we get back. What are we telling them?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nothing,” Carver said sharply. “We’re telling them--” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh so she can keep them in the meetings but they’re not allowed to ask questions?” Aggie sounded annoyed. Millie continued saying nothing. She’d find a moment to speak up. When it was funny. “If they can’t know, send them out!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They’re there to guard her and the baby, not listen, not understand.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’d never stand for this shit if it was two of yours!” Aggie barked. “Yeah, we all know how pissed you are that Vido picked Poison Maw over your people for the Honor Guard. Get over it.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Go fuck yourself, Nagheen. That has nothing to do with--” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If we don’t treat them fairly, it could test their loyalty.” Vido was still speaking quietly, a sharp contrast to the others’ rising voices. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And letting them in the secret makes them feel special,” Aggie added. The first night they’d met, Millie had thought her voice scratchy. Now, it was still deep, and certainly hard, but the roughness was gone. Lack of sleep and water had battered her throat, Millie assumed. Smoke from the hundreds of fires that had burned throughout the compound. Millie wondered how many people Aggie killed that night. Then how many she’d lost. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...The more who know, the more we risk everyone knowing,” Carver said in a near whisper. “We should tell them to forget what they heard.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How are they supposed to do that? Vido is right, if we’re assholes about this, they might take it personally. Start gossiping.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Besides, Millicent doesn’t like lying to them.” Vido added.    </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Millie snorted. She couldn’t help it. “I can still hear you. And I already talked to Trigger. I told him that the Calypsos were corrupted by the Destroyer. He believed me.” Guilt tugged at her heart strings. A memory had come with it. A Spring Rebirth festival, with chanting monks and long, dreamy sermons. It was blurry, and she wasn’t sure why she was thinking of it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You what?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He asked, I answered.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Lied. </span>
  </em>
  <span>That was Tyreen’s voice, sudden as a thunderclap. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He asked, I lied! </span>
  </em>
  <span>Sophia was a Goddess of Truth. Well, she was a goddess of a lot of things. But truth, first and most centrally. “I told him half the truth and then lied to him,” she corrected. “But I fixed the problem.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was another stretch of silence, and Millie welcomed it. She wanted to think. Just think. The Spring Rebirth festival. A great mystic poet had come from the planet called Brittany, to sing about Sophia. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Deception is like the Tiger’s Maw; Bottomless and full of teeth…</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The van slammed to a halt and Millie had to grab a hold of the seat to not go tumbling. “What the fuck happened?!” She demanded, looking around wildly. Judging by the taste in her mouth and the ache in her neck, she’d fallen asleep. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vido was at the window into the cab, speaking rapidly. Aggie was sliding the sun roof open, presumably to climb out that way. “Road’s blocked,” she said, before disappearing onto the roof. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carver hadn’t moved, just crossed his arms and arched a brow at Millie. “Glad you’re up.” The doors of the cab opened and shut, very softly.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I am making a person! I’m tired!” Millie snarled, and to her disgust, he chuckled in response. “What, exactly, are you laughing at?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You. Obviously.” His eye ticked to the roof as Aggie’s feet pattered across it. The woman was nimble as a petal. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Herakles,” Vido said. “I’m going out. There’s boulders blocking the path that weren’t here before; Ryan thinks it was deliberate.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re scouting? The blind man?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The shadows of the canyon walls will let me see, and I have other ways of learning things. Stay with her.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t acknowledge me, or anything!” Millie said to his back as he too went out the sunroof. “Why not use the doors?” She demanded, mostly to herself. Peering out the window, she realized she didn’t know where they were. Another canyon. But shallower and far more narrow than where the Grease Monkeys lived. The sun was starting to sink, just enough to throw it into shadow.    </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Quieter,” Carver grunted, and it took Millie a beat to realize he’d answered her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh. Alright then.” Sweat had beaded on her forehead while she’d slumped against the window, soaking the roots of her bangs. Now it was drying, leaving behind salt that made her scalp itch. The nap, with how brief and dreamless it had been, hadn’t calmed her. She felt bored and irritable. But not irritable enough to pick a fight. “Why do you speak my culture’s tongue?” She asked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thought it best to know what the prisoners of war might be plotting.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Really? You feared the schemes of insects?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Heh. You sound like Vido. Of course I did. Besides, the empire my people are descended from collected thousands of languages during the Conquests. Why shouldn’t we do the same?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Millie snorted to herself. “Which empire was that?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The Greeks,” he said proudly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Anholt claims to be the spiritual heir to the Holy Roman Empire. Vati says that we are Germany reborn, not the ancient empire. As if Germany is less ancient?” She wasn’t sure if she should accept the explanation, but doubted she’d get a better one. Maybe it was best not to push him anyway. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Voices sounded outside, and Carver tensed visibly. Millie looked up at the sun roof, searching for Aggie’s shadow. Listening for gunshots was useless; Aggie’s gun was too quiet. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carver’s echo buzzed, and they both jumped. Millie watched as he accepted the call. Reflexively, she began curling and uncurling her fingers. Her arm seemed to grow a little warmer as her marks started to glow. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vido’s voice came from the echo speakers. “Herakles, this was not a random rock slide. Someone knew we were coming this way.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you want me to take the girl and head back the other way?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Millie perched on the edge of her seat and tried to resist bouncing her leg. She suddenly felt as though she should stay as still as possible. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, splitting up is a bad idea. The convoy is going to head back now. I’m going into the tunnels and I’ll meet you in 20. There’s something I want to check on down here.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You are not going by yourself!” Carver said sharply. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Someone’s hunting us and he wants to wander off?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not wandering off, Millicent,” Vido replied curtly. To Carver he said, “Who's going to follow me into the tunnels?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If somebody knew we were here, doesn’t that mean we have a mole? A traitor?” Carver was scowling at the echo, as if Vido could sense the expression. The cab doors opened and shut again, and the van started up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How can they turn around in here?” Millie asked anxiously. Through the open window into the cab, she could see Ryan behind the wheel. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’ll be tight, but we’ve got it,” he promised over his shoulder. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“These tunnels are deserted. If by some insanity, my clan has the traitor, they likely aren’t nearby.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bullshit!” Carver shouted, as Aggie dropped back into the van. It was indeed turning messily around, and Millie pressed back further into the seat. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t waste your breath,” Aggie said to Carver, taking her seat. “He’s made up his mind, doesn’t want us waiting for him.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He’s her Chief of Security! And how could he possibly know the tunnels are deserted?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, he’s gonna be fine.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Until he’s not.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The van completed it’s 180, and they began moving in the opposite direction. They could only go one at a time, and Millie felt distinctly cornered. “Why did we come this way?” She asked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s unmapped, except by one clan,” Aggie said. “Wasn’t revealed to most of us until we formed the Council, so, none of our enemies know about it.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Except, it turns out they do?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...Leaks happen,” was all Aggie could offer her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How well can you use your powers?” Carver asked. “Can you defend yourself?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clash’s husk made another appearance behind her eyelids. “Yes.” She wanted to live. She wanted to live another nine months and then go home. What were a few more deaths, a few more sins, between then and now? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good. Do </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> hesitate.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Queen Mother, nothing is going to happen to you,” Trigger said. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Only try to use your powers if you’re literally about to die.” Aggie was sitting on the very edge of her seat, poised to go for the sun roof at a second’s notice. “Hide, or stay right next to one of us. Understand?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before Millie could answer, the van halted again. “They stopped,” Ryan reported, pointlessly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Trigger cursed and the van’s radio crackled. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Blue Car, this is Black Car. The gulch is blocked this way too.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fuck,” Aggie snarled. She snaked out of the sun roof, hauling her rifle with her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carver was out of his seat and throwing the door open. “Outside,” he said, gesturing. “Now, we can’t be in here--” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Who is it?” Millie followed him, scuttling across the interior and out into the cooling air. “Who’s doing this?” She was worried she knew the answer, and wanted him to prove her wrong. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Beasts, most likely,” he said. Up and down the gulch, half a dozen CoV cars were halted, bandits spilling out onto the sand. It was mostly the day-glo violet of Poison Maw, with scattered BulletTeeth and what she was fairly certain were Star Biters. “If it is, we’re in luck.” He led her across the sand and into the chilly shadow of the south wall.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What? How the fuck are the Beasts good news?” Millie looked back at the van. Aggie was still on the roof, crouching with the scope of her rifle to her left eye. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“DeZill left before we collected you,” Carver said, pressing against the darkened sandstone. “He has no idea you're a Siren.” He gestured again, towards the North. “Move, that way, stay against the stone. Vido’s somewhere along here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She moved but didn’t let him off the hook. “And how is that possible?!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Keep your voice down!” Carver checked his echo. On the roof of the van, Aggie still hadn’t moved. Millie wondered--briefly--why she was so out in the open. “Look, it was a while before we got you. Thought you were just--We only had half the story. Weren’t sure what to do about you, and DeZill took off before we decided.”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Decided what?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The echo crackled and she lost any semblance of Carver’s attention. “It’s about time, Stonefang,” he hissed into it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Guess again, you roided-out relic!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” All of Millie’s hair stood on end. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carver gripped the echo so tight the plastic creaked. “Where is he?” More of a threat than a question. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>DeZill’s voice came again, tinny and distorted through the Echo. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>He’s still breathing. For now. He’s really off his game. Losing sleep, or is he just hung-over as shit?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shocked you made it ten yards in the tunnels. Thought you’d stand out in that ridiculous silver coat. But I doubt you’re making it back out, if you assaulted the spider chief.” Carver snapped his fingers at Millie, who had already stopped shuffling along the wall. He started looking around, a tinge of panic in his expression. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Cool thing about having a hostage. You can kinda like, use it to negotiate and get your way and junk.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fair point. They might not get you today. But they’ll get you sooner or later.” Locking eyes with someone across the gulch. “Or I will.” He muted the echo’s mic and hunched down. “We were in Blue Car, that’s number four out of six. Orange Car is six out of six, go to it. Stick by the wall. When you get there, tell them to get you to my clan grounds, understand?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She didn’t bother to nod, just started jogging in the direction he indicated. Running on nothing but nerves, she hugged the rough stone. Behind her, she heard Carver calling to Aggie. The bandits who’d been riding in car five were heading the opposite direction, trying to look casual. Judging by the muffled whispers she caught, they were going to make a show of clearing the path. Up ahead, she could see the car Carver had indicated. Two Bulletteeth flanked the cab, and four Poison Maw were climbing into the back, presumably to retrieve more gear.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>One door slammed shut and the van exploded.  Millie was tossed backwards, stumbling and flailing. The intense heat from the window earlier felt like a kiss compared to the blaze in front of her. Mid-air, Millie twisted and flung her out her arms, some sort of primal terror bursting in her chest. No use. She landed on her back, sprawling, the air punched from her chest. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There were no screams from the car. Only the crackle of flames and the bubbling of plastic. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Running footsteps thumped through the ground around her ringing skull. A wild-eyed bandit mask blocked the sky, and the woman it belonged to grabbed Millie by the front of her shirt. “MOVE!” She screamed, yanking Millie to her feet. Once she was upright, the Poison Maw shoved her forward, ignoring how Millie swayed and staggered. “BACK TO THE DEATH SCREAMER, GO GO!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>World still spinning, heart still racing, Millie dragged herself that way. Six people were dead just behind her. She’d felt them go. At her back was the yawning hole where they had been; only a raw wound was left in their place. She could feel the life running beside her. Could practically smell it, and the fear pulsing inside. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Away from the cars!” That seemed to come from nowhere. The sky, maybe. But it was sound advice. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A blur of orange and yellow and soft brown sharpened into Aggie up ahead. Her echo was on the ground, and she was smashing it with the butt of her rifle. Carver was behind her, destroying his by slamming it against the rock face. “--hacked our fucking echos, how are we supposed to predict--” Whatever Aggie was saying was cut off by another explosion in the distance. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Black Car?” Millie said, and Aggie whipped around to face her. “What? Get her out of here!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And take her where, exactly?” The Poison Maw shouted back, before running past them in the direction of the second detonation. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, yes! Run TOWARDS the deadly inferno! Don’t stay here to protect your sovereign!” Tears were streaming down Aggie’s face. She rounded on Carver. “We have to get her somewhere! He might blow the rest of the cars for the hell of it and then start hunting us like fish in a fucking barrel!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carver stomped past Aggie and grabbed Millie by the sweater. “FOWLER!” He bellowed into the chaos. Acrid smoke was filling the gulch, and the shadows had deepened around them. Millie coughed and Carver looked at her, expression somehow pained. “FOWLER!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Out of the foul smoke, a Star Biter emerged. Behind him, Trigger and Ryan, and Millie’s heart leapt in relief. “Did that freak Stonefang tell you where a tunnel entrance is?” Fowler demanded. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No such luck! Besides, DeZill is down there with who knows who else!” Carver shoved Millie towards the men. “Get her out of this gulch, take her to the Screamers camp, keep her there until further notice!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is Vido alive?” Millie asked over her shoulder. Trigger and Ryan were trying to pull her along, make her follow Fowler. “DeZill had him is he--”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carver stared at her, and he abruptly looked lost and pale and numb. “I don’t know,” he said. Behind him, Aggie had one hand sunk into her hair, and was staring up at the sky. She looked much the same. Spent. Done. At her limit. “I don’t know,” Carver repeated, as Millie was yanked along by her guards.   </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Bad News Everybody!</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Ableism abounds! Specifically, one character says a lot of gross things about the fact that Vido is technically albino. (Not going to get into hair-splitting territory about how Cave Spiders aren't "albino" but that's not the point, this is ableism.) Also, I know nothing about rock climbing!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Beneath the burning sands of Hounddog Gulch, Vido was having yet another Bad Day. DeZill hadn’t invaded his caves alone; three men had been with him. After he was jumped, Vido killed two of them, but it hadn’t made a difference. The fight ended the same way. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was on his back, nose broken and face bloodied, glaring up at DeZill. DeZill grinned back, chipper as ever. Instead of a headlamp, like most surface dwellers, he’d opted for night vision contacts. The synthetic lens glowed red in the black of the tunnel, doubtlessly a special order. Funny, Vido remembered killing everyone who supplied those on Pandora. Must’ve missed one.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey Vee, settle a bet for me,” DeZill said. Vido didn’t reply, busy having a staring contest with the muzzle of his SMG. Not that DeZill wanted an answer. Right now, Vido was just an object to bounce sound off of. Egotistical prick.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>DeZill’s last bandit was confiscating Vido’s weapons. His eyes were also glowing red in the darkness, though they were behind the lens of a mask. “Found his Echo.” Vido jumped a little. In the two dozen times he’d seen this man, he’d never once spoken. The greasy-haired bandit passed Vido’s echo to DeZill, who took it with a wink and a tongue-click. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So anyway, this bet,” DeZill continued. “My boys and I,--rest in pieces, dudes,--we were spying on you fucksticks from up there--” He pointed at the ceiling. Or tried to. Mostly, he just bashed the top of Vido’s echo into the roof of the tunnel. Ignoring that, he continued. “Are we supposed to believe that Bavarian Barbie is still in Blue Car? That why Aggie’s on the roof by herself?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What do you want?” Vido asked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nothing you can give me. But that’s cool. I’m getting real creative these days.” He looked down at Vido’s echo, and stuck his tongue out as he worked the dials with his thumb. DeZill’s fingers were unique. Each had an extra joint, and his thumbs had two extra. Birth defects were uncommon in his clan, particularly among leaders. But DeZill had been clever enough and ruthless enough to overcome his clan’s concerns with physical homogeny. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The echo buzzed, and Herakles’ voice came through. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s about time, Stonefang!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Someone must be with him. If he’d been alone or just with Aggie he’d have said Vee. And if he was drunk and affectionate he’d say </span>
  <em>
    <span>Selene</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Guess again, you roided out relic!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vido eyed Greasy. The man had answered to ‘Inkster’ in the past. He worked for DeZill, had since they were both teenagers. Was a long-time amphetamine addict, but was high-functioning. Didn’t look like much physically, but was a crack shot and an efficient, creative torturer. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Not that DeZill needed help torturing people. </span>
</p><p> </p><p><em><span>“Where is he?” </span></em><span>Worry wasn’t a good color on Herakles.</span> <span>Vido’s mouth opened involuntarily, and he almost called out. He swallowed it back down when Inkster growled at him. </span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Instead, he whispered, “And you call me an animal?” Inkster crouched briefly and grabbed Vido’s broken nose, twisting it. Vido screeched and clawed at the hand hurting him, and Inkster let go. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“They might get you today. But they’ll get you sooner or later. Or I will.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>That was technically true. An uninvited outsider shed Clansmen Blood in the tunnels. By Spider law his life was forfeit. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>DeZill was rolling his eyes and mouthing the words sarcastically. “Yeah, yeah, I’m real scared of the homeless albinos! Look, you’re clearly in no mood to talk. And I don’t have to take that. So bye.”  To Inkster he said, “Radio the guys, tell them to hit the switch on Orange Car.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vido tensed, heart crawling into his throat. “The switch? Did you tamper with the cars?” That was impossible. He’d checked them. He’d had them checked. Hadn’t he? Inkster and DeZill didn’t answer. Greasy was tuning his own echo. “DeZill if you’ve done something to the cars I swear on the Calypsos--” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay, you know what? You don’t SCARE ME, you freaky little drow.” During the height of the COV, DeZill had taken care to hide his disgust for the Cave Spiders. Honorary or not, insulting the God-Queen’s clan was just plain stupid. None of that mattered anymore, and his contempt was out in full force. Wagging his gun side to side, he continued running his mouth. “I should’ve known Tyreen was cracked in the head. What kinda screwy bitch trusts a thing like you? Hangs around things like you?”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Anger never made Vido’s blood hot. It made him cold. Right now, there was ice in his veins. He was paralyzed, caught between finding answers and chewing DeZill’s throat open. Beside them, Inkster’s echo crackled. “Don’t you dare--” Vido hissed. Fear was trying to rest his attention away from anger, but Tyreen’s name was basically a cheat code. Tack on not sleeping for two weeks and he was having trouble prioritizing. “DeZill, you will die so fucking slowly--”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Whatever fear the Bloody Beasts had held towards him seemed to have died with the Twins, because Inkster didn’t even look at him. “Boss says blow the car,” he croaked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“NO!” Vido lunged off the floor, towards the echo, and DeZill shot him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Three bullets from the SMG ripped into his left shoulder and bicep. Muscle and flesh and bone were shredded and then pulverised, spraying his blood into the shadows all around. Vido slammed back onto the ground, too breathless to scream. Only gasps escaped his mouth, short and shallow as he fought for breath. The pain wasn’t even pain, just heat crawling down his arm. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The ground around him vibrated, barely cutting through the ringing in his head. They’d blown one of the cars. Not Blue Car, Orange Car. But Millicent wasn’t in Blue Car. Where was Millie? Was Millie dead? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Trembling fingers clutched his wounded shoulder as he tried to staunch the bleeding. DeZill and Inkster were talking again but their words made no sense. Why didn’t he have the cars checked twice? Three times? A thousand times? Why did he let Millie leave the compound, the Cathedral, her bedroom? Stars, stone, and darkness was Millicent </span>
  <em>
    <span>dead</span>
  </em>
  <span>? Was Aggie? Herakles? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Five years ago, he found Tyreen in these tunnels. Dying of thirst. Alone and angry and powerful and just like the Prophecy had said she’d be. Why hadn’t he killed her, thrown her body into the deepest crevice he could find, and never told anyone? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>More hot blood seeped out from under his fingers. Something sharp was poking them. Batshit, was that bone? DeZill’s life was forfeit for trespassing and shedding blood here. DeZill’s life was forfeit for attacking the Chief. DeZill’s life was forfeit for breaking a treaty. Thrice damned but Vido might not live to collect his pound of flesh.   </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A rough hand seized him by the hair and dragged him to his feet. Vido twisted and kicked, the agony somehow doubling. “Hey!” DeZill shouted, shaking him. “That Spartacus wannabe and the rabid pit bull chick destroyed all the echos out there. Despite the fact that I have a perfectly good bargaining chip here. So now, I gotta haul your Elmer’s Glue Puppet looking ass outside.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Inkster’s croaky voice interrupted. “They found the brat.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Relief was a welcome break from the awfulness he was enduring. Millicent was alive, if only for now.   </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Stay away from her or I’ll feed you to my sisters,” Vido mumbled. Blood was precious, but fear was cheap. Never too late for fear. His family line had built quite a reputation on the backs of the Cannibal Sisters rumors. In truth, the women of his family would throw their clan’s enemies onto the stagletites that lined the bottom of Pandora’s Mouth. Executioners, not roving cannibal valkyries. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Stop wasting your breath on threats! You’re no good to me dead, Spider. Anyway, where’s she at?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fowler of the Star Biters is trying to carry her out of the canyon.” That was a familiar name too. Effectively third in command of the Star Biters, one of Reeves’ finest.  Fowler was a decent man, reliable, loyal. Good with children.   </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uhg! STOP THEM! Now!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They’ve wanted an excuse to eat you. They think you’re a creep. I think they’re right.” He was losing a lot of blood. Was probably going to pass out soon, and might not wake back up. Maybe he could chip away at DeZill’s sanity with his dying breaths. If for no other reason than spite. “Nobody down here likes you, DeZill. Going to like you even less soon. You might still have a chance to flee if you go now.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can it,” DeZill snarled, continuing to frog-march Vido along the winding tunnel. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But sure...go ahead and kill their Siren too--” The threat was empty. If Millie died here and now, this soon after Tyreen and Troy, the COV would dissolve. They had no replacement for her yet. And a tiny part of him believed no replacement was good enough, that any change would bring it all down.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ha! Kill her? Do you think I’m stupid?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes.” Down here, in his home, Vido could discern individual shadows like sighted surface dwellers did with the bands of a rainbow. Now though, as his head came apart and his blood left for greener pastures, all the shadows blurred together. He was dying. Like Tyreen had been that day. He’d made the decision to save her, to believe in her, on his own. But all of Pandora was paying for it.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>DeZill spoke again. “I’m not gonna kill her, Stonefang. Way better. Gonna sell her. You know, like your pal Aggie suggested before you decided to shove her on a throne instead?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The only word Vido picked out of those sentences was Aggie. It made him smile. Maybe he’d get to hear Aggie’s voice again before he died. Maybe Herakles’ too. That thought made him smile again. He missed them. He missed Millie too. And Tyreen.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Stone scraped against stone. Blinding light killed all the shadows and his thoughts fuzzed out as DeZill dropped him to the floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>///</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can you two climb?” Fowler demanded, as they reached the base of the cliff wall. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not like you can, but we’ll manage.” Ryan and Trigger were packing much lighter than they had that morning. All non-essential gear had been abandoned back at the car. “The real problem is we can’t protect her while we’re doing it, but the snipers should have us covered.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, but we have less snipers than we should,” Fowler shot back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Millie was staring up at the rough sandstone wall. The thought of climbing that seemed ludicrous. Toxic smoke from the burning cars was spreading, circling her legs up the knees. Inside her, she sensed the tiny, fragile life of her baby. Her zygote or whatever. It was alive, unharmed by the explosion. But the air was rapidly becoming poison, and another car could blow at any time. Not to mention DeZill was nearby and not seeming very merciful. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Queen Mother, I’m real sorry, but you’re gonna need to grab on.” Fowler, careful not to touch her skin, seized her elbow and pulled her close. She had no choice, and would just have to ensure she controlled herself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dense nylon rope was woven around her middle and was anchored to Fowler’s mountaineering rig. Every time she looked up at the rust red rockwall, she got a bit dizzy. Out of his climbing pack, he produced four axes, tossing them to Trigger and Ryan. “This vein is pretty steady, look for patches like these--” He indicated a section of rock. “Only put the blades there, and make sure one is anchored before swinging up to the next.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bone Carver didn’t know if Vido was alive. Nobody did. And Millie couldn’t pick out one life from another in the din; could Tyreen do that? What could Tyreen do? Several loud, sharp pops started at one end of the canyon, and all of their heads swung in that direction. Someone yelled out a warning. Bloody Beasts were emerging from some of the Spiders’ tunnels. “Now!” Ryan said shrilly. “We have to go now!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Another boom. Not an explosion, less loud and more hollow, from behind them. Blue Car, it sounded like. Millie started to whip around, wanting to see what had happened. But Fowler snapped his fingers in front of her face, getting her attention back. “Hey, hey, Queen Mother. Don’t be wigged out. I have a girl at home, heavier than you. Her wrists aren’t right and she can’t climb. But I carried her up and down the cliffs every single day and never dropped her once. We’re going to keep you safe.”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His words helped a little, slowed her rapid breathing so she stopped feeling so dizzy. With a nod and a stiff upper lip, she stepped up behind him. Millie wrapped her arms around his neck and plastered herself to his back, feeling the flex and roll of his body as he started to climb. Fowler didn’t use axes. Something had been built into his gloves; strange blades set at the knuckles, perpendicular to his fingers. They cut into the rock like it was thick styrofoam. To Millie, it was a wonder they didn’t sheer straight through the rock and slice the wall to ribbons. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Every storm of gunshots that tore through the gulch was like a blow to the head. Echoes bounced off the rocks, coming from everywhere. In between surges of raw, animal panic, she thought of the Compound, the laundry room. Was DeZill only here? Were they at the compound too? Was somebody protecting her friends?  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Below them, Trigger and Ryan were scaling the walls too. Slower and clumsier, uncertainty in every movement. With every strike of their borrowed blades, Millie flinched. A terrible little movie started playing in her head. Fragile orange rock crumbling under their axes, sending them both down. Down to broken spines or a splattering death. Ryan’s voice from earlier echoed over top of the images. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Queen Mother, the railing! </span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fowler climbed faster and smoother than she thought was possible, and quickly left Trigger and Ryan behind. He was assuring her that a car would meet them a few miles away, that she was going to be safe. “The Screamers might be filth, but they’re tough filth. You’ll be safe,” he promised. There was still screaming, still gunfire below and around her. More people were going to die today. Because of her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And then what? I hide with them forever?” Open air pressed on her back like a creep on a subway car. If wings lurked beneath her skin, now would’ve been a wonderful time to grow them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, no, you hide with them until we figure something else out!” Fowler’s words tasted of fear. But the edge of the gulch was in sight, and she hadn’t leeched Fowler yet. So that was already an improvement.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Up above them, on the right hand side of the rock vein, the stone began to shift. A slender circle appeared, and then pressed forward, rolling to the side along barely-there seams. Millie let out a frightened squeak and Fowler’s head shot up. “Vido?” He said. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Millie knew it wasn’t Vido. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Instead, a familiar face grinned out at her. Red eyes and silver hair. A long, overly sharp face with pinched up features. “Hey muffin,” DeZill chirped. “Long time, no see! Congrats on the promotion, though to be honest? Not sure you’re the right choice for the job.” He was leaning on the sill of the round porthole, posture almost casual. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Trigger and Ryan had stopped climbing below her. Fowler was tense and silent. The window was maybe a yard and half above her; the silver arm of DeZill’s jacket kept catching Millie’s eye.. Close enough that she could taste his life on the air. But she’d never leeched without touch. Tyreen could do that, Millie had seen it. But it took practice. She was afraid to try; she might drain Fowler instead. Where were the snipers that were supposed to be covering her climb?   </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>DeZill artificial red eyes cut down towards Fowler. “I’ve got the Spider,” he said conversationally. “He’s actually bleeding out at my feet!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No!” Millie said, anxiety jumping high in her chest. More bursts of gunfire rang out around her, and she instinctively cringed closer to Fowler’s back. Right. That was where the snipers were. For now, they were alone up here.   </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mills. This is bandit business. Shush!” DeZill leaned further out from the window, letting his arm drop out of it. A gaudily customized SMG flashed in the fading sunlight, and Millie whipped her head back to follow its muzzle. Heart sinking as she traced the path. If DeZill fired, the bullets would bury themselves in Trigger’s face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Put that away,” Fowler said, voice overly calm. “DeZill, we let you leave the COV. Let us leave the gulch. The girl hasn’t done anything to you.”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We can’t let him keep Vido,” Millie protested. She could feel Fowler’s heart racing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Queen Mother, please be quiet!” Trigger snapped. “What do you want, Beastie?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I want an audience with Troy’s child bride. But I don’t want it dangling from the side of a cliff, and I def don’t want it on your jerk-ass terms.” He waved the gun around a bit, just to make everybody flinch. “Now that you’re all good and wigged, and I’ve put some of you moon-eyed fanatics in the fucking dirt, how about we climb back down? My associate and I will talk to the chicklet on the ground.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And then you’ll give Stonefang back?” Fowler asked wearily. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I mean. Yeah. I guess.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Please,” Millie whispered. She didn’t want Vido to bleed to death and she didn’t want Trigger shot. DeZill was more than capable of both. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The magazine of the gun tapped impatiently on the stone. “Let’s go! Let’s go! I have other shit to do, on a fucking time table here! Plus, the Snowman in here has only got so much blood, ya know?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You gonna shoot us if we don’t?” Trigger asked thickly. Ryan was muttering angrily below her. Millie caught the words ‘heathen’ and ‘traitor’. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not Fowler.” DeZill sounded a tad defensive. “Not while he’s got Millie. She’s too expensive to drop. But you PM bozos? In a fucking heartbeat.” There was another pause. Fowler was twisting as best he could to exchange looks between him, Ryan, and Trigger. DeZill blew out a sigh. “Millie!” He groaned, and something savage and prideful sparked in her chest. “Come on! Can’t you like, make them? Aren’t they calling you a Queen or Demigod or some shit?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Queen Mother, we’re going to take you back down,” Ryan called, ignoring DeZill.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The climb back down was faster and much less smooth. Fowler was radiating terror, as were her guards below her. But she kept her eyes on DeZill. Held his gaze until he disappeared back into the porthole. He blew her a kiss just before the cover slammed shut, and her skin crawled. The second her feet touched the ground, Trigger and Ryan were back at her sides. Pressing close, they walked her quickly back to Blue Car. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aggie and Bone Carver were still there, crouching in the car’s shadow. Millie stopped in her tracks, eyes huge. Or tried to; her guards kept pulling her. The car had been flipped onto its side, massive dents punched into the metal sides. Judging by the ragged sheets of plexiglass that lay twisted on the ground, it’s windshield had been destroyed. Aggie and Carver were claiming cover behind it, and they both looked stunned as Millie was brought back to their side. Before they could ask, Millie blurted it out. “DeZill has Vido! He was in the tunnels, he spoke to us!”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So what the fuck are you--” Aggie started, but was cut off. Fowler stepped in between Millie and the two bandit chiefs.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He was saying something about an associate and wants an ‘audience’ with the Queen Mother.” Fowler’s voice was shaking, as were his hands.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We should have killed him,” Carver snarled, but his voice sounded uncharacteristically weak. He was at Aggie’s back, one shovel-sized hand curled around her delicate shoulder. Holding her close to his chest in a gesture that was bluntly protective.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He’s bringing Vido back,” Millie said loudly, and that got their attention. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Vee’s alive?” Aggie asked, hope in her voice. Smoke still choked the gulch, and gunfire was still screaming through the rocky walls. Aggie’s eyes were streaming from the toxic air, but the gunshots didn’t make her twitch.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“When?” Carver demanded. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, now supposedly!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Subtle vibrations moved through the ground beneath her feet. Life filtered into the air, and Millie spun towards it, as did the others. Another round porthole was opening, this time in the ground. Spinning away along those natural, seamless runners, the trapdoor revealed that familiar mop of metallic hair. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>DeZill squirmed out onto the ground like a long silver worm. Behind him came an impossible skinny Bloody Beast, with long dirty hair and unhealthy, pitted skin. Slung over the scrawny one’s back was Vido’s limp form. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Vee!” Aggie’s outraged and frightened voice matched the twisted expression on Carver’s face. Not surprising. Vido was a mess. Nose smashed in and drooling constant blood, face bruised across every plane. One shoulder had a large, jagged chunk missing. Beneath the cloth of his ruined shirt were bullet wounds that seeped blood and tissue. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Give him to me!” Carver barked. He was digging in his pockets for something as Vido groaned pitifully.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>DeZill had risen to his feet and was leisurely stretching his neck and flexing his shoulders. “Yeah, yeah, in a sec.” Over his shoulder, he said, “Inkster, if any of them twitch, blow the next car.” The other bandit grunted. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can we move the Queen Mother behind Bone Carver?” Ryan asked. His tone was far from polite. It was almost a snarl. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fuck no.” DeZill looked at Ryan with a cruel sort of amusement. “The fuck did you just call her? Queen Mother?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...We didn’t pick it,” Ryan said defensively. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vido’s eyes fluttered open. It was well into the late afternoon now, but he still cringed from the light. He started to squirm, trying to extract himself from Inkster’s grip. The movements seemed more instinctive than deliberate. Millie watched him, holding her breath. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>DeZill turned his attention back to Millie. “Hey, little Siren. Don’t look so freaked.” His grin was truly awful. Cruel and gloating and manic, all the worse for its authenticity. “Somebody wanted to talk to you, and I figured out how to make it happen. That’s all! Nobody has to get hurt.” As he was talking, DeZill plunked his Echo from his belt, and began fiddling with the dials.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“People are dead,” Millie said. Still watching Vido. He had woken up a bit more, and had gone still. His head was cocked, listening carefully. Behind her, she could feel Carver’s tension, Aggie’s rage. “People are dead and my security chief is currently a prisoner of war. So I don’t believe you.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>DeZill laughed and Trigger’s hand curled tighter around Millie’s elbow. “You don’t have to get hurt,” he corrected himself. “These guys? All signed up for hurt, so I wouldn’t sweat ‘em too hard.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My people didn’t sign up to be blown to bits in a hole by a cowardly traitor,” Aggie hissed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Traitor! We wanna talk about betrayal, huh?” Over his shoulder, DeZill said, “Ya hear that, Spider-face? Your buddy Nagheen wants to talk about betrayal! Should we start with yours?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Static and electrical interference buzzed out of the echo, and DeZill grinned again. Blue light filtered out of the projector, and a human form fuzzed into view. Trigger and Ryan tensed up on either side of Millie as a hologram of short woman with bobbed hair and a dark suit peered back at them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Your associate?” Fowler asked dryly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hello, Millicent.” The woman stepped forward, seeming to ignore everyone else. “My name is Rosamund Ashworth,” she said primly. “I was sent by the Dahl corporation to bring you home.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Millie’s brain was processing a lot today. Death and carnage and the Grease Monkeys and accidentally traumatizing her Poison Maw guards, for starters. So her brain decided to hear those sentences word by word. ‘Dahl’ and ‘home’ were good starting points, and she was working it out past that while the others were actually responding. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bullshit,” was Carver’s verdict. Sharp and plain, like that settled everything. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It did not settle everything. Instead, everybody was yelling, everybody was threatening, the din of their voices blending with the bang and pop of flying bullets. Rosamund gave Millie a long suffering look as DeZill gleefully hurled insults. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rosamund. Dahl. Home. Here to bring you home. Dahl sent me. Here to bring you home. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her heart was pounding away inside her chest and inside her head, thoughts racing just as fast.  DeZill said if any of them moved he’d destroy another car. Millie had no idea how long the bandits around her would remember that. If they kept pushing after that, the murder would only escalate. She couldn’t think, it was too loud, there was too much life, not enough space, they wouldn’t stop yelling--</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay!” Millie shouted, mouth overriding her brain in a rare moment of impulsivity. “Stop, all of you, stop yelling!” Resisting the urge to cover her ears, she focused her gaze on DeZill. “I’ll listen to her but not like this! Make your people stand down, give Vido back, and I’ll listen!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>DeZill started to object, but Rosamund cut him off. “Give the bandits back the...other bandit.” Revulsion had crept into her expression. Contempt. “If those are Millicent’s terms, we should respect them.”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With an expression that was a borderline pout, DeZill gestured to Inkster. “Throw ‘em the Spider.” As Inkster literally threw Vido to the ground, he spoke into the Echo. “Dudes, quit slaughtering the other dudes. Apparently we’re talking this out.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a sick sounding crack as Vido hit the ground and rolled. Millie started to lunge for him, but Aggie beat her to it. She surged past Millie and snatched Vido up in her arms, pulling him back towards Carver and the car. Millie turned, watching as Vido was set down on the hard packed earth. “Can you fix him?” Aggie demanded, breathless and tense. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Herakles, no--” Vido said, and shouted wordlessly when Carver gently pried his fingers away from the wound. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Quiet, not now.” Carver’s voice seemed almost tender. “We can fix this, just hang on, Vee.” He’d found whatever he’d been looking for earlier. But she couldn’t get a look at it.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aggie’s head snapped up, back towards DeZill. “What did you do to him?” She demanded, voice thick with emotion. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uh. Shot him? As is my prerogative?” A withering look from Rosamund had him cringing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I said I’d listen, now speak!” The rakks from earlier were no longer holding her over. She wanted to leech desperately and it was so hard to resist right now. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Dezill said, voice much less snarky now. “I know you guys wanna kill me. And you totally can.” His stance shifted; he was facing Millie now. Only talking to her. “AFTER I have my audience with the God-Queen.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s not her title,” Vido barked. His voice was weak and Millie tried not to fret over his blood loss. Then he screamed, loud and frightened, and Millie looked back over her shoulder. Carver was crouched over Vido, doing something to his mangled shoulder. Millie couldn’t see what the hell it was, but Vido sounded worse than before </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why not?” Rosamund inquired, snapping Millie attention back. More than ever, she felt like a cornered rodent, spinning from threat to threat. Every escape route closed off, and the fright might kill her before the snakes did.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“An excellent question!” DeZill grinned at Millie, and she shrank away from him. Into the relative safety of Trigger and Ryan. Still sticking by her through it all. “Do you know, cutie-pie? Cuz the way I see it? You’re not the Queen Mother. You’re the God-Queen. I mean, for real guys. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Troy’s baby</span>
  </em>
  <span>? Who gives a shit about Troy’s kid?” His statements were punctuated by Vido yelping. From the corner of her eye, Millie saw him thrashing on the ground. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Watch your mouth before I break your jaw,” Carver snarled, but DeZill ignored him. Carver was pinning Vido to the ground, not letting him twist away.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Still only addressing Millie, DeZill continued.  “Tyreen’s mark, the siren powers, that’s your claim. And it’s the only one you need. Less of course, somebody talks you into giving it up.” Millie wanted to respond. She knew this. She knew this, right? They’d explained it to her, the title thing, hadn’t they? “How’d they convince Poison Maw to go along with that anyway?” DeZill added. “I mean, they’re all about the Prophecy, all about the Foretold. Shouldn’t they be calling you the right thing?”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Our Chief has his reasons!” Trigger barked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Her title doesn’t matter,” Ryan shot back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh. Her title, doesn’t matter. I see! Hey Mills. Did you know your title doesn’t matter?” Beside him, Rosamund’s hologram tutted and shook her head.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Stop calling me Mills.” She said it almost absently. No, she supposed her title didn’t matter, but should it? No. She did know this. Her baby was going to be the figurehead of the CoV, so she could go home. ‘Queen Mother’ was better, so the cult didn’t get attached to her. Millie’s fingers curled involuntarily. So the cultists didn’t get attached. So they didn’t care when she died.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Millicent,” Rosamund broke in gently. “We have information from an inside source; we believe these people--those three behind you in particular mean you harm.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Inside source?” Millie repeated. “...Bust Up.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I believe that’s what she calls herself.” There was that tone of contempt again. “According to what we could decipher from her rants, much of the...CoV, plots against you. Incidentally, our findings concur.” Rosamund clearly didn’t like bandits, and talked about them like they were more pest than people. It would’ve bothered Millie more, if she wasn’t so exhausted and distracted.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No one is going to hurt Millie,” Ryan said firmly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No one,” Trigger repeated darkly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uhg. Obviously we don’t mean you. Fucking Maw fanatics. You’d sell out your own mothers for the Siren or for your fucking Prophecy.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Because it’s true, you faithless monster!” Trigger’s voice was raw and his words more than a bit jumbled. Like he hadn’t meant to speak. “The Psychos promised us a City of Honey! That’s the CoV!” Millie had never heard him speak like this. It was hysterical, fanatical. “Her title doesn’t matter, as long as the CoV lives she has Poison Maw! We’ll serve anyone that keeps the future we were promised alive! And we’re not the only ones!”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Far, far from the only ones,” Fowler agreed. “We’ve mapped the stars for generations, waiting for the Final Comet. We’re not giving her up now.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Final Comet? More new words. More things she hadn’t been told. Two years she’d lived on this planet, two years she’d lived among bandits. How little had she learned? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Queen Mom isn’t going anywhere, so piss off!” Aggie had left Vido’s side for a moment, as the sounds of his agony tapered off. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before she could move closer, Trigger suddenly rounded on her. “Nagheen, I respect the shit out of you and your people. But you call the God Queen that one more time and--” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t threaten her!” Carver started to get to his feet but Trigger swung the barrel towards him next. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You who she’s talking about, Screamer? You the threat I didn’t know about?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Millie tuned them out. She focused on Rosamund, and used the moment of chaos to slip out of Ryan’s grasp. Fowler tried to stop her, tried to throw out an arm, but Millie shot him a look that stopped him dead. “You said I can’t trust them,” she said. Home. This woman was here to take her home. A few steps closer. Not in No Man’s Land, still closer to the CoV side than Rosamund’s. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dezill looked delighted as he answered. “Let me guess? They said they’ll fake your death, send you and the other hunks of jailbait back to Beverly Hills. Yeah, I remember them floating that plan...right before I took my clan and split.” He shook his head, eyes full mirth and fake pity. “They’re lying! Of course they’re lying!” Inkster nodded sagely, and then waved his Echo threatening at the bandits behind her. Reminding them that they were one call away from more slaughter. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Behind them, Rosamund offered Millie a stiff smile. “They’re afraid of you, Millie. Afraid that you’ll rob them of their power. With the Calypsos gone, they see an opportunity to seize control. You’re just a tool to them, and eventually, tools are disposed of.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t fucking listen to them!” Aggie snapped, and then followed it up with, “Trig, you get that gun out of my face!”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll get the gun outta your face when he stops making sense and you start telling the truth!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>DeZill pressed on, voice getting higher and more excited. “Think about it! You ain’t nobody! Stonefang spelled it all out for us the night the Twins died. Your big bro is Mr. Military, their biggest war bond pusher, and your grandpa’s real tight with the CEO. We couldn’t believe it! Of all the chicks for Troy to grope, huh?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Millie went scarlet and Rosamund looked disgusted. But DeZill carried on gleefully. “You And the other kewpie dolls being property of Dahl made shit real tricky. Cuz Atlas is in the pocket of the Raiders, and Hyperion is still recovering Handsome Jack, still ‘re-organizing’. They’re not coming for us or for Pandora. But Dahl? This is the excuse that they’ve been waiting for!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is that true?” Millie asked Rosamund. Before coming here herself, she honestly hadn’t known about Dahl’s messy history on Pandora. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The directors have been looking for a chance to retake Pandora,” she confirmed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Over my ashen corpse!” Aggie howled. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> DeZill shouted over her. “They’re not gonna send you home, Millie! Can’t risk it! The minute they have your rugrat, you and the other babes </span>
  <em>
    <span>are dead</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was like an anticipated punch to the nose. Jarring and painful, no matter how long you braced for it. “He’s lying!” Aggie protested. Millie’s feet itched to run. To turn and lunge at her, wrap her hands around her throat and watch her body shrivel into black sand.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Millicent, please--” Vido began. Whatever Carver had done to him was over, and he seemed to be recovering. One hand reached up, grabbing a wheel well, and Vido pulled himself to his feet. Carver was the only one still on the ground, but Trigger and Ryan were probably happier to shoot him than most others. Hatred was boiling off them in waves. “Millie,” he tried again. “We’ve been deceptive but we can explain.”    </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shut up,” Millie said shrilly, waving one hand distractedly behind her. “Just shut up and let me think!” Taking a deep breath, she fixed DeZill with a hard stare. “Keep talking.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You stupid girl!” Carver shouted, and Ryan joined Trigger in turning on the little group. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Let the man fucking speak Herakles. God Queen’s orders.” He sounded close to snapping himself. Another movie was playing in her head. Trigger and Ryan opening fire on them, punching holes in the overturned car and raining gore across the sand. She didn’t want that. Mostly she didn’t want that.   </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You know I’m telling the truth,” DeZill continued. “Because these three can’t be trusted. And yeah, neither can I. But she’s from Dahl, and you know you can trust Dahl.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No she can’t!” There was genuine panic in Aggie’s voice. “Millie, Millie, come on, I’m begging you--” Millie shook her head wordlessly as she took a step towards DeZill and the hologram. Then another and two more. Well into the empty space between the two groups.    </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If you come any closer to her, I’m going to kill all three of you.” Carver promised, but he wasn’t moving. Trigger and Ryan were jumpy as hell. Could you blame them? They were having a worse day than she was. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“God Queen, majesty--” Fowler was talking to her like she was the one with a loaded gun. “I know all of this is--I know how confused and freaked out you’re feeling. But you cannot trust DeZill, you cannot trust the Bloody Beasts, and you sure as hell can’t trust some random bitch from Dahl!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m some random bitch from Dahl!” Millie screamed. She turned to face him but continued backing up towards Rosamund. “Why shouldn’t I trust her?!” Of course the bandits wouldn’t risk sending her home. Had they lied to her about the other slaves too? Did they ever intend to free them as they’d said? Maybe they merely let her play at power to keep her silent.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You do not know what that company is capable of!” Aggie asked, rising to her feet. Ryan snarled a warning but didn’t fire yet. “They don’t show the ugly face in the central systems, but they’re fucking demons, Mills!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“DO NOT CALL ME MILLS!” Tears beaded in her eyes and threatened to spill over. She was taking in short gulps of air, sick to death of crying but about to do it again. “You were going to kill me!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No!” Aggie insisted, but her face was a mask of guilt. Carver wouldn’t meet her eyes and Vido was stoney-faced beside him. “No...we wouldn’t have actually--” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Burn in hell,” Millie whispered. “Burn in hell! All of you!” She wanted leech so badly it made her sick. Her baby, her zygote, was heavy in her body, like an anchor weighing her down. Was that what was clipping her wings? The lump of DNA Troy had left inside her before the Crimson Raiders killed him? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Traitorous fucking scum! You’re as bad as he is!” Ryan’ fury was almost childlike in its purity and Millie sort of admired it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fowler looked as disgusted as Ryan sounded. “She’s a child! And our sovereign! What the fuck were you three thinking?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We made decisions that saved the CoV.” Vido’s voice was calm and steady, but his eyes were red and puffy, face flushed from effort. “Keep in mind, your chief agreed to this.” Millie could see his shoulder again. Something had closed the wound, leaving only a shining red mark behind. Didn’t matter. She didn’t care, it was time to go home.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Get me out of here!” She took another step back, almost across to DeZill and the holo of Rosamund. “I don’t want to be here another second!” She wanted her mother, she wanted Saturday, she wanted Troy. But she’d settle for DeZill if it got her home. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dahl will kill you,” Vido said, speaking rapidly. “There are things you don’t know--” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What else is new?” She whirled away from him and sprinted the last two yards. The ever deepening shadows of the cliffside swallowed her up, cooling her skin. Rosamund looked beyond pleased and DeZill whooped in triumph. Aggie started forward but Ryan put half a clip into the ground at her feet. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The fuck?” She demanded, bewildered. “You’re letting them take her?!”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She ain’t safe with you.” Trigger said coldly. “We’re going with DeZill, we’ll keep her safe.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Our fault for trusting BulletTeeth, Spiders, and that fucking Grecco.” Ryan spat, and Carver’s face twisted in hatred. “Dante’s weak. Reeves is weak. You’re all fucking weak.”   </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carver swallowed his rage and looked past them, zeroing in on Millie. “Just going to leave your friends to die instead, then?” Carver shouted at her. “I was willing to kill them before, and I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>itching</span>
  </em>
  <span> to do it now, brat!” Sophia help him, he really didn’t know her at all. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Millie was facing the hologram of Rosamund, trying to force authority into her words. “My friends, the other girls DeZill bought, they’re all at the compound. We have to get them before we leave!” The bandits had smashed their Echoes. They might not have a way to order her friends shot. She sent a prayer to Sophia, short and sweet and desperate as she could. Keep them safe until orbit, until they were homebound. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah, well.” Rosamund shrugged, and suddenly Inkster’s arm was snaking around her waist. Millie screamed and Fowler shouted an unintelligible threat. “Dahl’s board of directors was very clear; I’m here to retrieve you. Just you.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What are you--” Millie was trying to claw at Inkster’s arm, and began to leech almost at once. She heard him gasping in pain. But something cold and sharp dug into her neck, jarring her enough to break the connection. She gasped and choked as ice water spilled into her blood.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“GODDAMNIT!” Millie saw Trigger turning his gun on DeZill, saw Fowler sprinting towards her. There was more shock than fear. A hysterical sort of embarrassment. Of course. Of fucking course. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The world went black and she hoped they killed each other. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Raw</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Ableist language regarding the "psychos"</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>Vido #1 </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tyreen: So the Psycho Prophecies. That’s basically you guys making up stories about shit the psychos say? </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Vido: That is an insulting oversimplification. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tyreen: Is it? Hmmm. No. I don’t think so. I think that’s accurate. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Vido: Pay attention. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tyreen: Okay, okay, I’m listening</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Vido: Psychos that are members of bandit clans tend to develop collective delusions. And sometimes, similar things show up in multiple clans. Over the generations, since we were abandoned by the corporations, we’ve interpreted those collective, persistent beliefs as prophetic visions. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tyreen: Do YOU believe this shit? </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Vido: Believe might be a...strong word. But the Prophecies are useful political tools. Like ours. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tyreen: The Great Twat. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Vido: TYREEN. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tyreen: Hey, hey I’m sorry! Okay, the Great Bat. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Vido: Comes from the Cave of Stars to eat the world. We thought Cave of Stars referred to one of our actual caves--</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tyreen: With the glowy mushrooms, right? The ones that don’t even get you high? </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Vido: Those are sacred; Stop trying to eat them! Yes. We thought that was the Cave of Stars. But, clearly, our Psychos meant the sky. At least, that’s what we’re going to say.  </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tyreen: And I’ve got that ‘eat the world’ shit on lock. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Vido: Precisely. You’re a perfect fit. Perfect.  </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tyreen: But you don’t think I’m the Great Bat? Not...not really? </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Vido: Tyreen...all psycho prophecies have one thing in common. The Future We Were Promised. The Foretold, the person or thing or event, will lead us to the Future We Were Promised. The Great Bat is simply how my clan--our clan--will get there. Do I think the psychos were talking about YOU? No. Not really. Do I think you are the one we’ve been waiting for, the one who's going to take us into a new and better age? Yes Tyreen. I believe that very much. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tyreen: Heh. No wonder my brother hates you. You’re threatening his job. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Vido: *dripping with sarcasm* I would never dream of displacing the God King. We certainly can’t do this without him. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tyreen: *sighing* Why can’t my favorite boys learn to get along? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The second Millie went limp, Aggie had her rifle up and aimed. It wasn’t going to be a pretty shot; she might burn Millie’s cheek and would certainly soak her in gore, but she could drop Inkster. No problem, she could drop Inkster. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her finger was curling tight around the trigger, but she wasn’t fast enough. Inkster started moving sideway, dragging Millie like a sack of flour. The hologram of the Dahl bitch fuzzed out of existence as the bullet struck the rock wall behind Inkster. Aggie cursed loudly, trying to follow him with the scope. No dice; a tangle of bodies hit her and sent her sprawling. Trigger was in the dirt with DeZill, fists flying. Aggie scrambled backwards. Higher ground. She needed higher ground. Where were-- </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Herakles barreled past her, and there were three Beasts hanging off his back. He clawed one of them off his shoulder and slammed him into the dirt. The blow that landed across the man’s face snapped his neck, and Herakles abandoned the corpse for more important matters. She wanted to help him, so much of her howled to help him; but he was far from helpless and she had more pressing concerns.  Higher ground. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aggie’s back hit the underside of the car, and she froze, unable to choose. Take time to haul herself up the car and risk losing track of Inkster entirely, or keep trying to shoot from the ground? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vido shouted in pain to her left, and Aggie snapped out of it. Keep shooting. Don’t lose Queen Mom. Save Queen Mom, then help Vee.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She braced her back against the car’s underside and resumed aiming. Inkster wasn’t attempting to open the door set in the ground. He was jogging in the direction the Bloody Beasts had come from, clearly banking on his clanmates for cover. DeZill had brought a full complement, silver and crimson swarming out of holes and into the daylight. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Too many.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aggie tried to keep her scope on him; but he’d swung Millie up, over his shoulder. She needed a headshot, couldn’t hit the girl. It was almost lined up, almost clean. But then hot, bright and boiling, ripped through her right shoulder. Aggie only half swallowed her scream, letting out a choked gasp, and her hands spasmed around her gun. It fired, but instead of hitting Inkster, it struck one of the bandits swarming around him. The Bloody Beast took the shot full in the chest and flew backwards before slumping to the ground in a heap. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Stepping forward, Aggie vainly twisted away from her attacker. Whatever they’d stabbed her with wasn’t stuck in her flesh, and blood spilled freely down her back. She spun around and struck the bandit across the face with the butt of her gun. The woman’s nose and jaw shattered and she dropped too. “Bitch!” Aggie spat, and kicked her hard in the chest. From the sound of it, she snapped a few ribs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Millie. Inkster had Millie. Aggie spun in place again, trying to locate the girl. What she saw instead was Vido, on his knees, arms pulled back and pinned. One bandit was keeping him held down while another pressed a gun to his forehead. It was the fastest she’d ever moved; one second she was witnessing the scene, the next she’d popped the gunman’s head like a grape. No way in hell was he dying before she got to yell at him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Whatever pain Vido was still feeling in his shoulder was no longer slowing him. The second the gun barrel was gone from his face, he threw himself up and back, knocking the other flat. He rolled to the side, landing on his feet, and Aggie waited until she saw the glint of one of his knives before she moved her scope. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Inkster was further away than she would have liked, and she finally saw where he was going. At the far end of the gulch, she saw three Beasts jumping down the rocky wall. Wrapped around their bodies was a jumble of old and dented metal, haphazardly anchored to the edge of the cliff. Fucking grapple lifts. A joint project between the Star Biters and the Grease Monkeys, scraped because it kept snapping necks and throwing people against the rocks. Of course DeZill dug that crap out of the trash heap so he could cut another corner.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“FOWLER!” Aggie screamed, and fired off another shot. Not clean. Not clear. It only winged Inkster, tearing a rip across one bicep and spraying a thin sheet of blood. She saw him stumble and catch himself. That shot had been close for comfort, and Millie’s curls were suddenly slick with the man’s blood. “Fowler!” She shouted again, and felt him charge past her, towards the grapple lifts. Too late. Too far away. Instead of a clear path, he was greeted with a wall of Beasts. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Part of Aggie screamed to leave him there. To keep trying to kill Inkster. But she could picture Fowler’s face, knew the names of his children, had danced with the man’s wife at Bloody Harvest. Inkster wouldn’t kill Millie. The Beasts would kill Fowler. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So she gave him cover, dropped the Beasts who came within arms’ reach of him, and sent a mad prayer to the universe to protect the girl. Maybe there were still Gods in the sky; she was clearing a semi decent path for him. Then again, Gods could only do so much. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Inkster’s headstart was too big. He was nearly to the lifts. Where in the fuck were Queen Mom’s Poison Maw?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That question was answered by a piercing scream to her right. Her eyes ticked towards it of their own accord. Trigger had gotten his teeth into DeZill at some point. The scrawny faced bandit chief was sprawled out on the ground, twitching madly. Poisoned blood was oozing from a ragged hole in his chest. Three more Beasts lay around them, all with lethal looking bites marring their bodies. Trigger and Ryan were standing over them, each grappling another Beast. Trigger had one in a tight bear hug, holding the man’s back to his chest, and was chewing into his shoulder. The titanium rig lining his teeth was dark with blood when he pulled back.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey! Are you two paying attention! They have the girl!” Aggie screamed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ryan tore open the throat of his latest victim and looked back at her, wild-eyed and breathing heavily. Mouth wet with blood and gore he shouted back, “A little fucking busy here, Chief!” He threw the corpse to the ground, and tried to follow Fowler. More Beasts came from seemingly nowhere. Ryan was right; they had their hands full. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>DeZill’s echo crackled at their feet, and dozens more buzzed around them. “This is Inkster. DeZill is captured but I have the girl. Fall back now.”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“NO!” Aggie’s scope found Inkster; he’d found the grapple lift while she wasn’t watching. He was already halfway up the cliff, Millie still cradled in his too-thin arms. “NO NO NO!” For a mad second, she almost shot the cables. Her eyes were threatening tears as she forced the rifle down. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>DeZill’s forces abandoned him without a second thought. A wave of silver retreated from the ambush point; some returning to the Spider tunnels, some finding temporary grapple lifts along the walls. As quickly as they’d surged into the canyon, they rushed back out, trailing corpses in their wake. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s a silence that falls over fields of the dead. It’s awful, because it’s impure. Imperfect. There’s the smooth, thick sounds of still flowing blood. There’s the moans of the wounded, the thud of their twitching limbs. There’s the ringing in your ears and the pounding in your chest. Aggie had heard this silence many times before. This wasn’t the worst time; that was reserved for the night the Twins died. But this was up there. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Millie was gone. She’d lost the girl. Specifically, she’d driven Millie into DeZill’s arms and then lost her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>DeZill. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aggie dropped her rifle, a move far beneath any proper BulletTooth, and jumped towards his limp form. He was dying; the veins in his face had already gone purple, and the whites of his eyes were filling with blood. “Where is he taking her?” She seized him by his tattered coat and lifted him from the hard, sandy rock. “WHERE?!” DeZill’s head lolled uselessly as she shook him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“To Dahl. Obviously.” He croaked, and cracked a grin at her. Shadows fell over them as the others gathered around, breathless and grimy and lost. “But don’t worry about them coming for the others or nothing. Curly’s the only one they want.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bullshit!” Aggie screamed, and hauled back. She slapped him hard across the face, but she knew his nerves were long dead. “You said it yourself, Dahl wants Pandora back!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh they do. They super do. But they wanna dust Hyperion way more.” DeZill chuckled, or tried to. Blood and bile frothed up his throat as he gurgled out another sentence. “Dust it. Or eat it up and spit it’s bullets out as theirs. Cuz of the slavers jumping that colony ship, they’ve got a shitload of martyrs to get people to do it. And now, they've got a shiny new siren too.” Aggie’s fingers went slack as she let him drop. He hit the ground with a thud, kicking up orange-red dust.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Behind her, Vido spoke softly and heavily. “She’s not going back to her parents.” It wasn’t a question. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nope. Far as Dahl’s concerned, she’s more useful dead than rescued. She’s going to a lab, and the corporations are going to war. Again.  But hey, thanks to me and mine, they’re leaving us out of it this time!” He laughed again, coarse and bitter, and his eyes fell closed. “Your fake God Queen’s gonna be a propaganda icon, just like her big bro! So you guys AND your high horse can get fucked. Cuz I officially did more for our planet than you sons of bitches ever did.” As far as last words went, they weren’t terrible. DeZill’s chest went still, and his limbs went limp. Another silence bloomed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It wasn’t Hyperion.” Moxxie was swiping through pages and pages of news script. Headlines flashed by, and pictures of the empty Anholtan ship. Every single article blamed Hyperion, to one degree or another. Sometimes it merely hinted: “enemies of Dahl”, “terrorist cells from the old war”, “paramilitary agitation efforts”. Others were far more blatant, calling out the company and its current CEO by name. Paragraphs of libel, screaming for blood. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re sure?” Ava asked. Millie Xanth wasn’t the only victim Dahl kept reminding people of. Lists of the dead were as long as her arm. Dahl had paid for massive memorial murals on Anholt, and it’s moons; the names of the 250 children lost given special attention. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They aren’t bragging about it.” She turned her back on the screen, and looked bone tired for a few seconds. “If Hyperion wanted to kick off another war, they wouldn’t attack a random colony ship and then deny it. They’d raze a few capital cities to the ground, assassinate a few propaganda icons and executives on stage. Really hit them where it hurts.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But they gained nothing from this.” Ava stepped closer and touched the screen, zooming in on one particular story. It was the public state funeral for those who’d been aboard the May Queen. Rows of parents and children and spouses, dressed in black and lined up alongside hundreds of empty coffins. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And Dahl gained support for a new war from one of their most important military planets,” Tannis concluded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you think they ordered the attack on the ship, or just took advantage?” Ava asked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hard to say. I don’t think they intended anybody to end up in the Borderlands. It’d be far smarter to have them all slaughtered wholesale! But, we don’t know enough just yet.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We can’t leave them down there,” Moxxie said, hands going to her hips. “I doubt that poor girl on the tape is the only one the COV got their mitts on. And if there’s any chance those people are alive, they’re overdue for a rescue.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Exactly! I want to go back to their compound, see for myself if there were prisoners left behind!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Our forces are tired,” Tannis warned. “Another conflict might be a bad idea.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not going to fight! I’m going to get the prisoners back, that’s all!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And if the remaining COV don’t want to hand them over?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll go all Siren Vault Hunter badass on them and put them in the dirt, no big.” With her best Cheeky Grin, Ava cocked her hip and flexed her left arm, Siren tattoos twinkling.   </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You can’t be serious,” Tannis said flatly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Annnd I’ll bring the Vault Hunters?” Ava offered. “Come on, the COV are minus the Calypsos now, I don’t think it’ll be a problem. If they’re even still there.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, they certainly are,” Moxxie said simply, and the other two looked round at her. “My friends on the surface have all reported the same thing. The COV compound still has warm bodies in it, but they don’t seem to be bothering anybody just yet.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How long have you known THAT?” Tannis asked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Only been a day or two that I've had solid intel.” Moxxie had switched the screen back to the video of Millie. Ava hated that video. Hated the fear in Millie’s posture and the odd, uncharacteristically sorrowful look in Troy;s eyes. Moxxie continued, voice soft. “Lost a lot of good friends on Pandora the past year or so. Those I still have either moved onto Sanctuary with us, or went into hiding during the war.” Ava wondered briefly when they’d decided the conflict with the COV was a war, and how you could tell the difference. “But I goosed a few out of their bunkers, and sweet talked them into taking a peek.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well! Then my point stands. What are you going to do if the COV resists this rescue mission?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m just going to get the prisoners back,” Ava repeated. “I’m not going to start trouble!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re not going to TRY to start trouble,” Tannis corrected. “But trouble tends to find you.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Doesn’t it find most Sirens?” Moxxie asked dryly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, but Ava is an active magnet for it.” To Ava she said, “Go get Amara and the others, tell them to be ready for another mission on Pandora. Try to exercise some caution.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tell them they can rob the COV some more. That usually gets them excited.” Moxxie suggested, and Ava laughed as she left the room. As soon as she did, Moxie’s face fell again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you think they’re hurting her? The COV?” Tannis asked, looking up at the screen. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I honestly can’t say, sugar. She was clearly one of Troy's favorites; that might keep her safe. Then again, it might not.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And when we do get her back? What are we sending her back to?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moxie said nothing for a few seconds, tapping another news story. A grizzled man of unknowable age stared out from the header photo. His gaze was ice and iron and deep, deep grief. General Thursday Xanth, out of retirement following the “tragic” and “mysterious” death of his youngest granddaughter. In another article, Captain Saturday and his sister Nadine stood on stage at a military recruitment event; according to the closing paragraph, they recruited a quarter of a million citizens to the cause. “Nothing good,” she said finally.     </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>///</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“FUCK!” That was the only thing Trigger had said for roughly five minutes. “Fucking, fucking, FUCK!” He’d been pacing back and forth over top of the Cave Spider door, where DeZill and Inkster had first emerged. Ryan wasn’t doing much better than his clanmate. Instead of pacing, he was standing stockstill, staring at the three of them. Herakles could feel the Poison Maw’s gaze boring into him. Lesser men might have cringed, but he resisted. “You were gonna kill the fucking God Queen,” Ryan said finally. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Queen Mother,” Herakles corrected flatly. “And it’s more complicated than that!” It wasn’t. But they should be taking that up with their Chief, not with him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can’t believe Dante went along with this,” Ryan said, disgust heavy in his tone. “I can’t believe that he, that he abandoned everything we believe in like this!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Herakles started to open his mouth in an odd reflex to defend Dante. Because he did have an answer for that. Dante had, after a lot of screaming and pleading and persuasion, given into the new party line: that The Baby was Tyreen's heir, not The Girl. But he swallowed it. Dante could clean up his own mess. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Reeves was gonna kill a kid.” Fowler’s was staring into the sky, like he was already anticipating the stars. “We don’t hurt kids. We’re not supposed--it’s against our oldest rules. It was part of what our clan was founded on! And Reeves was gonna kill a little girl.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She isn’t a little girl,” Vido said wearily. Nobody thought he believed that, and he was barely pretending. He’d crept away from the rest of them, sheltering against the rockwall. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Too far away</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Even in the shade, the brilliant red mark of his repaired shoulder stood out. It would never fade; the pain left its signature on everyone it touched. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aggie was much closer. She was sitting on the dirt, beside his feet. Herakles wanted to brush a hand through her hair, ground himself with the fiery orange strands. But the last time he’d touched one of them without permission, in front of ‘outsiders’, he’d been in the figurative doghouse for days.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Reeves said she was the Final Comet. He told us she was the one we’d been waiting for, that she’d rewrite our planet. The future we were promised, he told us it was her. Why? Why if the plan was--” Fowler cut himself off. “We need to get out of this place,” he said hoarsely. “I’ll… I’ll try to get the rockfall clear. We can’t get her back from here.” He didn’t wait for a reply. Just disappeared. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fuuuuuuck.” Trigger moaned one more time. “Okay. Yeah! Fowler’s right.” He spun around. “You three got a plan?” He demanded. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We will if you give us a minute,” Herakles replied dryly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fan-fucking-tastic. Ryan, let’s radio the traitor. Gotta get the troops rallied.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ryan snorted. “Oh? He’s still in charge?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He’s in charge until we get the God Queen back. But after that? Shit’s gonna change.”  The two of them scrambled up the side of the overturned and dropped down into the cab, leaving the three of them alone.     </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s not true,” Aggie said, from her spot on the ground. There was an odd quality to her voice. Faint hysteria and the ghost of a laugh. “It’s not true, is it?” Her hazel eyes were rimmed in red; almost half a dozen of her people dead today. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What the fuck are you talking about,” Herakles asked, exhausted. He slumped against the bottom of the overturned truck, and scrubbed his hands over his face. His chest hurt. His heart, most specifically. Troy’s face and The Girl’s fought for space in his brain. Both young, both scared, with wide eyes and shaking voices. Ghosts in his head.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What Gerardo said earlier, at the Pueblo. About Millie, about her and Troy.” Aggie wasn’t looking at him. She was looking at Vido, who was still as a rock against the canyon wall. Aggie got to her feet, dusting herself off as she rose. "Gerardo said nobody knew what he was doing to her." Nausea flared briefly in Herakles' gut. He didn't want to think about Troy and Millie. Didn’t want to remember the truth. Aggie continued, sounding borderline tearful with frustration. “About not </span>
  <em>
    <span>knowing</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Cuz, from what I understand, plenty of people </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why the fuck are you bringing that up now?” Herakles said incredulously, as Vido also stood.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I've been waiting for some downtime," Aghie answered with a snarl. "Might as well be now!" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What was I supposed to do about it?” He hissed, waving one hand violently. Cave Spiders kept their limbs in tight when gesturing; their world was in narrow tunnels and small caves, and that reflected in their movements. “How, exactly, does one man stop a god from raping an insect?” His face was twisted in rage and grief, and it took a lot of effort to not go to him, comfort him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“By trying, maybe?” Aggie sneered. Her tongue was lethal when she was in the right mood, and affection wasn't enough to make her hesitate.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And why, exactly would I involve you?” Vido spat. "It had nothing to do with you, of course I kept you out of it!" Herakles winced. Aggie wasn't the only one who could go too far.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aggie’s face crumpled; the remark had stung. She turned away from Vido and stalked off. She didn't go far, stopping at the back axle of the car. Arms crossed, she scowled off in the other direction, towards where Fowler had gone. Now that her back was turned, the stab wound was visible again. It looked gruesome, but he’d checked it earlier; she needed stitches, not the Pain. Still, he wished she’d let him stitch it before starting an argument.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The gesture wasn’t visible to Vido in this much light; Regardless, he clearly regretted the words. He looked guilty, and spoke more gently when he continued. “Aggie, that wasn't what I meant. I was trying to protect you, really.” He said it like a confession. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Go to hell, you were protecting Tyreen.” Aggie couldn’t hide the shake in her voice. She hadn’t been successful in fending off tears, and Vido taking the bait had only made it worse. “I could maybe understand you hiding it from me. But from Carver? Seriously? You couldn’t sack up enough to tell him ‘hey, babe, Troy’s sexually abusing a child’?! Now that is low, Vee!”    </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t use me as a prop in your argument,” Herakles said flatly, and Aggie threw him a narrow-eyed look over her shoulder and he met her gaze steadily. Troy’s name was a ligature tightening around his neck. He’d spent days choking on screams and curses, on the grief he couldn’t find time to feel. The Girl’s face came back, streaked in tears. In her eyes was the sort of bone deep betrayal that changed a person.  Not now. Not now, damn it. “And we can have said argument later. In private. When Millie’s back.” He didn’t like saying her name. Didn’t like thinking of her as a human being. It was easier to cope with her existence when she was an item to be retrieved or a problem to be solved. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His lovers listened to him, miracle of miracles. “Trigger is contacting Dante,” Vido said. The calm in his voice was laughably fake, but it was still an improvement. “Poison Maw will do anything to get her back.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good! So, what is the ‘anything’ we’re going to tell them to do?” Herakles tried not to get impatient. He was talking to the two cleverest people on Pandora. They could solve this, given time. They were just stunned. Exhausted and demoralized. That was alright. He could prop them up, help them limp along to the solution. Get The Girl Back. Get The Baby Back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We can’t let them leave the planet,” Aggie said. Reluctantly, she turned back around. “If they hit orbit--” She paused, rolling her eyes in thought. “Where do the Bloody Beasts launch from?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ten miles due east of their central territory,” he said. Because of course he knew. “We have an outlet there, from the Amethyst Cave System.” Almost absently, his hand went to his shoulder, to the new scar that was doubtlessly still burning. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can you beat ‘em there? Disable the ship?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...Yes, we can beat them there. But we might not be able do much if we do. Rockets aren’t our--” He paused. “The Terrorbytes could disable it,” he said thoughtfully.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That piqued Aggie’s interest; she bustled past Herakles and back towards Vido. “Do we need to link your guys up with them, or could the Bytes talk them through how to do it?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Herakles let himself relax slightly. His job was done for the moment. He didn’t fully tune out, kept his ears primed for his or his clan’s name. Doubtlessly, they’d all be asked to bleed for this at some point. And that was alright. It was their purpose; had been since their ancestors were abandoned on Pandora and sought salvation in The Pain. The Pain. He'd used the Pain on Vido, a Foreigner, without permission from the Psychos. But what was one more crime to make amends for? And Vido was worth it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Around him, the remaining bandits were starting to move. Several filed past, carrying grenades and bombs. Probably to clear the rockfall blocking their way out. Herakles watched them passively. Too little orange and yellow. Too little blinding violet. Instead, the stark white and electric blue of the Star Biters filled the gulch. No matte black or ruby red either; he was the only Screamer here. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>On reflex, he started to reach for his echo. Intending to radio home, just to hear the voices of his household, remember that they were alive. But of course it was gone. Clenching his fist instead, he scrubbed the heel of his palm against his forehead. “No matter,” he growled, mostly to himself. “No matter.” Herakles turned his attention back to Aggie and Vido. They’d moved. Now they were sitting in the cab of a truck, Vido radioing his own clan. Aggie was still talking, faster now, adjusting the scope of her rifle.    </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Seeing them like that, together and intact, soothed him some. He could do little for his clan at the moment. Actually, he could do little for anyone at this EXACT moment. He had to wait for his next chore to present itself. A nightmare, truly. Nothing was worse than not having a purpose, not even having too many purposes all at once. Reprieve and relaxation might seem appealing, but it risked making you soft. In body and in soul. He’d been foolish to hope for rest today. Of course someone took The Girl, why wouldn’t that happen? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The truck door banged open over his head, and Ryan leapt from the overturned vehicle. “Dante’s got the troops ready. Are they coming here or are they intercepting DeZill?” The man’s eyes were red from tears, and Herakles pitied him. Just a little. Allied or not, the man was still a Poison Maw.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aggie and Vido both looked over at him. “The Bloody Beast spaceport,” Aggie said. “The Spiders are working with the Terrorbytes to keep their shuttle grounded. Your clan--” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Keep ‘em at the port, got it.” Ryan hoisted himself back up, visibly struggling a bit. Idly, Herakles wondered why those two had insisted on going back inside the up-ended truck while calling their chief. Hiding their petrified faces maybe. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Almost as petrified as The Girl’s. Anger bubbled in his chest. She’d been stupid. Suicidally stupid, running into the arms of a stranger with a half-baked story. Believing something DeZill, of all bastards, had told her. His clan taught children better than that, raised them to be precious with their trust. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Not that he’d been wise with his own. One glimpse of glittering red birthmarks and he’d trusted his entire nation, his entire planet, to--</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Poison Maw men landed on the sandy ground beside him. “Chief,” Trigger said, gesturing at the truck. “We gotta get this upright and start moving.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...Right.” Principle really demanded he drag his feet. Why cooperate with a Poison Maw? But honestly, he was too tired. And his mother had never been clear on what Poison Maw did their people in the first place. Besides, they’d done a lot for the COV, and these two especially had been taking hit after hit for the Girl. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As the three of them tried to get the truck back on its wheels, Vido was still using the other truck’s radio to coordinate with his clan. Aggie had begun the grim task of gathering her followers’ remains. And it seemed that Fowler had gone to tell Reeves how many of his Stars had winked out. A shame. Star Biters were decent folk. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With a few grunts and a single, thunderous bang, the truck was set right. “Do you think she’s alive?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The question startled him. Herakles looked down at Ryan, the one who’d spoken. The young man was looking at him, and Herakles could see his own scarred nose and sun-beaten face reflected in the fuschia visor. “Of course she’s alive,” he said, the sneer automatic. “You think Dahl would waste a Siren?”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If she fought back, they might,” Trigger said tiredly. He wasn’t looking at either Herakles or his clanmate, choosing to glare vacantly at the front tires instead. There was blood drying into his dense braids and at some point, something had burned several holes into his pants. “I know you think she’s weak. But Millie’s scared, and that makes people unpredictable. If she tried to fight--” He paused. “If they kill Millie, who are you gonna pretend is in charge next? I’m just curious about the future of my fucking job, you know?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All Herakles could offer them was silence. With a sigh that belonged to a much older man, Trigger circled the cab of the truck, heading for the driver’s side door. Beyond the truck’s hood, Aggie was making her way back, and it seemed Vido was ready to go too. Ryan had disappeared into the cab with his clanmate. Herakles stared after them.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybe Aggie was right, and he should have been separating them from The Girl. Maybe he'd gotten too into the lie, let it affect his judgment. He'd just been craving normalcy. And had told himself that if he sold the lie she'd be less suspicious of their motives. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Arms wrapped around his bicep, and he looked down. Aggie was gazing up at him, chin resting on his arm. “Yes, Helios?” He asked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She had that look in her eyes. Not needy, but kind of like it. “I’m not gonna be coy, big guy. Can we screw later? I’m a fucking mess.”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“After we get The Girl back,” he promised. She grinned, crinkling up the corners of her eyes, and soothing the chaos in his chest. He wanted to duck down, steal a kiss before anyone saw. But Aggie released his arm and stepped back before he could. “Where’s Vee,” he asked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Already in the car,” she said, scowling. She’d been itching to have this argument since the night the Twins had died. There’d been a lot of screaming that night. And a lot of it at Vido in particular, but the three of them had stuck together. Had kept the cult together, had made a plan for their future.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He wasn’t trying to hurt us,” Herakles said softly. He started to reach for her, wanting to grab her chin and stroke her cheekbone. “Tyreen twisted his arm. You know she basically controlled his mind. And besides, Helios, is it really the time? Now?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He fucking lied to us, and we wouldn’t be in this mess if he hadn’t!” Aggie said, stepping back and out of his reach. “For over two years, he lied to our faces. And enabled--” She broke off, and then gestured wildly in the general direction of the compound. “All that shit! Why aren’t you pissed?!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ignoring the sting of rejection, he answered. “Because I need him by my side more than I need to be pissed. And by the way, I think we’d have wound up here regardless.” Which was true. Besides, the thought of staying angry at Vido for something that could be blamed on Tyreen seemed ludicrous. He hadn’t loved many people in his life. While he adored his clan as a nebulous concept, true human love could be counted on both hands. His mother. His mentor, Kosmas. His wards, Lysander, Achteon, and Chryssa. Troy. Aggie and Vido. He could forgive this. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In the present, in the real world, some of the fire had seeped out of Aggie’s eyes. “Okay. Fine. Whatever.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He’s sorry. He’s an emotionally stunted bastard, but he’s sorry. Give him a break.” He gave into an earlier impulse, and took hold of Aggie’s chin. “He loved Tyreen. Loved her like I loved Troy. None of us have slept. None of us have mourned. We can’t turn on each other, not now, Helios.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She blew out a sigh, but let him touch her. “I said fine! I forgive Shit For Brains. Or I will. Eventually.” Cheeks flushing, she extracted herself from his grip. “We gotta go get Queen Mom back.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As Herakles helped her into the car, something nagged at him. Forgiveness. If Troy had lived, could he have been forgiven? Not just for what he’d done to The Girl. Olympus knows, not just for The Girl, but his planned destruction of Pandora, his failed genocide of his own people. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No matter. No matter, not now. He slammed the car door behind himself, and gave a weary smile when he saw Aggie and Vido. They were sitting together on one bench seat, leaning their heads together, fingers entwined. Aggie was scowling and scolding him, and Vido was actually listening to it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The car started moving, and put his face in his hands to breathe for a moment. Get The Girl back. Get Troy’s baby back. He could do this.    </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>///</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Millie sat bolt upright, letting out the scream she hadn’t managed before. Hyperventilating, she looked around wildly. Not the gulch. Not anywhere she recognized. Beneath her body was soft grass of the deepest summer green, turned darker still by shade. The shade was cast by a massive tree, branches heavy with apples. Millie’s breath slowed as she stared up at the ripe and shiny fruits. Red and yellow and green and dark, dark purples. And beyond them, there was no sky. Only endless green-grey mists. Formless swirls of nothing. That same nothingness circled the patch of grass, as if reality ended where the tree’s roots did. Okay. A dream. She was unconscious, and having a dream. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uhg. You must be choosing the scenery, because this is SO not my bag!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Millie jumped. That was a voice she never thought she’d hear again. Slowly, cautiously, she crept around the massive trunk. “Tyreen?” Millie whispered, the sound softened by the empty mists. She rested one hand on the rich brown bark, and felt pure, strong life racing beneath it. It grounded her, made her feel less afraid, as bronze skin and snowy hair came into view. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tyreen was slumped against the tree, scowling into the mists. She had a half-eaten green apple in her hand. Every detail was stark and vivid, disturbingly real. Like she really was sitting there, lecturing. Not turning her head, Tyreen spoke again. “That was so fucking dumb of you.” There was real anger in her voice, and Millie started to shrink back instinctively. Then she froze. This was a nightmare. It couldn’t hurt her. “Where am I?”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Unconscious and in deep shit, Mills. Because you got your dumbass kidnapped.” Tyreen finally looked at her, and Millie screamed again, throwing herself backwards. Instead of icy blue surrounded by white, Tyreen’s eyes had been burnt radioactive purple, the sclera inky black. The right side of Tyreen’s face was caved in, and Eridium shards drifted in the gorey hollow. With the remaining half of her mouth, Tyreen scowled. “I thought I told you to NOT fuck this up!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I was trying to--DeZill tricked me!” She’d never pushed back at Tyreen while she was alive. But this nightmare imitation was better than nothing, and she wanted to shout too. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tyreen laughed, sharp and mean, and Millie’s face crumpled, bravado drying up under the heat of shame. “Oooh, the slimy slaver bandit king lied to you? Wow. That’s the most shocking thing I’ve ever heard, Millie! Must be blowing your mind!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Even as a hollow mask in a nightmare, Tyreen was still cruel. “What does it matter?” Millie said, and sank back onto the grass. “I’m dead either way. Those three, and all the Chiefs, they were going to kill me.” But now, her baby was doomed too. Millie tried not to regret that. Tried to think of it as a smear of cells that didn’t even have a heartbeat. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Doesn’t give you an excuse to quit! I’m not just gonna sit here in the Aether watching you destroy my legacy!” Evidently tired of Millie’s fear and disgust, she reached up with one hand and passed her fingers over the ruined half of her face. Slowly, it knitted back together, until it was once again Tyreen’s face. Now with the edition of glowing Eridium lines holding it together. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How could I destroy it worse than you did?” Millie asked snidely, bolder now that Tyreen was no longer so utterly mangled. She had no idea what the Aether was, but that was hardly important.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Meow,” Tyreen said flatly. “Ya know, you might show a little gratitude for this.” She gestured to the tree and the grass. “Coulda just let you sink into the drugs, but no! Out of the goodness of my heart, I protected your tiny mouse brain!” Tyreen threw her apple violently away, and it disappeared into the fog. Tyreen slumped against the tree. “God. Do you even know how fucking hard it was to get here?! To bring you with me?! Course you don’t! Ungrateful insect.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That was a little odd. Tyreen, for all her bullshit, had never called Millie, or anyone from the central planets, an insect. That had been the vernacular of the bandits. Tyreen continued ranting beside her. “I could be hanging out with my girlfriend! I could be chilling with Myka! Hell, I could be trying to find my bitch mom! But nooo. Instead, I’m here, with YOU, and you’re throwing a tantrum about it. For fucks sake Millie, you give me almost as many headaches as Troy does!”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Millie stared at her for a few seconds. Really looked at her, really listened to her voice. “Tyreen?” She asked softly. “I mean...</span>
  <em>
    <span>Tyreen</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tyreen, instead of answering, looked back at the mists. The Eridium purple of her eyes threw odd colored reflections over the fog as she glared into them. She reached up, over her head, and snagged a violently yellow apple from a low branch. Pearly white teeth crunched through the taut skin, and chewing was the only sound for a moment. “Yeah, Mills. It’s me.”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How?” Millie asked, her voice tinier than ever. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Siren bullshit,” Tyreen said tiredly. “We’re like, connected by our powers, I guess. And Sirens who share powers? Extra snuggly.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How could you do this to me?” Millie demanded, voice trembling. “Saddle me with this, with this--” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Saddle?” Tyreen whipped back around to face her, mouth agape, her air indignant. “SADDLED? I anointed you! I ascended you! And you’d be long dead already if I hadn’t, so check the attitude!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If the Vault Hunters hadn’t killed you, I’d be dead anyway. You were going to destroy the planet.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That--For fuck’s sake, that’s not relevant!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not, relevant?” Millie repeated incredulously. “Evil, evil witch, that’s all you are!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Duh,” Tyreen snapped.</span>
  <span></span>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hope you’re burning in hell,” Millie hissed at her. “I hope you’re somewhere awful when you aren’t here!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, wherever I am, at least I’m with Troy. Unlike you!” The comment stung like a slap, and Millie felt power surging in her left arm. Tyreen was grinning at her; that sharp, too-bright smile she was all too used to seeing from the Twins. “No baby daddy, no parents, no siblings, no friends.” Tyreen ticked them off on her fingers, seeming to enjoy Millie’s hurt glare. “Just traitors and thieves and schemers. Maybe you shouldn’t be shooting gift horses in the mouth.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Where do you get off calling yourself a gift?” Millie snarled. She wanted to curl her fingers around Tyreen’s neck, suck out whatever life was left in her. See her skin crack and watch the panic in her eyes. Blades of grass blackened and curled under her knees as some of this place’s thrumming power was pulled into her body. “You ruined my fucking life!”   </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tyreen gaped at her. "You, are being SUCH A BITCH right now!" She stood up, coat falling heavy around her shoulders. "Uhg. Whatever. I'm outta here. Don't follow me; you'll just get lost." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Where are you going?!" Millie snatched at her coat, but missed by inches. Tyreen started walking off, into the endless fog. “Damn it Tyreen, do not walk away from me!” She surged to her feet and ran after her. Unthinkingly. All she wanted to do was make Tyreen explain her, make her confront the shit she’d put everyone through. Besides, she wasn’t going to sit here alone, her body at DeZill’s mercy.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But stopped at the edge of the grass, running into some kind of resistance. It didn’t stop her dead, but she paused and had to push at the air. It was like a heavy stage curtain. Before she could shove through it, Tyreen was back. She shoved Millie back a few steps, scowling as she stumbled. “What the hell did I just say?” Tyreen asked flatly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You are not leaving me here!” Millie shouted, fist curling, and Tyreen groaned. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fine! Fine! Guess I’m gonna have to wake you up.” Abruptly, she grabbed Millie by the front of her shirt and hauled her up onto her toes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Let go of me!” Looking into Tyreen’s scorched eyes hurt her heart and she couldn’t stay this angry if she kept looking. But her squirms and kicks were ineffective.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shut the fuck up,” Tyreen snapped, and raised her free hand. "Kill that Rockabilly traitor or I swear to God, I'm gonna be a total poltergeist." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Wait--" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tyreen flicked her pointer finger against Millie's forehead, hard. Too hard. She flew backwards, out of Tyreen’s grip, but didn't hit the apple tree. She went through it, and the grass behind it, and instead of a misty sky she saw red light streaming through her eyelids. Wheels hummed. A radio crackled, and there was cold, flat steel under her back. Tight straps dug into her wrists and across her waist, and her mouth was dry.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>On the air, she tasted life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>BC #1</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Troy: *laughing* Everything hurts! I mean, FUCK, my lungs have never worked this hard. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>BC: Heh. You’ll be fine. Running the obstacle course will never be this hard again. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Troy: Yeah, I know, I’m over the damn moon! I feel...it’s like I have a new body! Seriously, what did you guys do to me? You slipping me more of the good stuff in my food?  </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>BC: Ha. No. You got what all Screamers get. The right diet, right exercise, right amount of sleep, right medicinal aids for your system. It’s hardly magic.   </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Troy: You know, the robot my parents built for me, it was supposed to be the best doctor in the six galaxies. Every paper ever written on chronic pain, every experimental cystic fibrosis surgery, every study ever possible on parasitic twins. He used to mix up new medicines for me to try. None of that crap ever made a DENT. What the fuck are you people? </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>BC: Ha! The Pain has allowed us to test and experiment and learn much more in-depth. When you can mend any wound, you can study it many times. Those who are not entrusted with The Pain think of the body as a mystery they can’t solve. Or worse, as an enemy that must be defeated. Anyone can thrive; you just have to know that particular body works, where it’s challenged, what it needs.  </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Troy: Where did that shit come from anyway? </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>BC: A gift from the gods of ancient Earth. Their parting love poem to us, when the corporations stranded us here. Too far for them to reach. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Troy: *sounding suddenly rapt* Ye-yeah? Which Gods, all of them? </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>BC: Yes and no. All of them sent it, but it was brewed by only a few. Ares, Hephaestus, Apollo, Hades. But it was Hestia who gave the finishing touch. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Troy: Uh...Hestia...Hestia...   </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>BC: *laughing* You know this one, boy. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Troy: Goddess of the hearth? Gave up her seat on Olympus? Which I still don’t get--</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>BC: Hestia touched the mixture, and commanded it to stay it’s agony from our Foretold. So we would know him when he came.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Troy: You really think I’m that? </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>BC: I know you are.  </span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Want to support me in other ways? Here's a link to my tumblr! https://jaymonsterthecanaryprince.tumblr.com/Links</p></blockquote></div></div>
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